Fate
by Stratossphere
Summary: The Konpaku Bloodline had been given tasks for generations to retrieve cursed weaponry from all over Japan. Though the myth was shaped that way, they were just a family of master practitioners in swordsmanship. Could there be any secret left to be unearthed from the youngest of the Konpaku Bloodline?
1. Dystopic

The machinery on the wall bleeped a few sensory lights: Red, yellow, and finally green. Ejected from one part of the depressed wall was a disc drive. Inside the circular glass object was data as much as a human brain could contain, or even more. A wobbling hand appeared from the darkness of the room and reach for the disc, careful not to drop it with his flimsy and wrinkly bone-thin hand.

He was balding, old, ridden with disease that a man shouldn't ever caught. His eyesight were too poor to see too well even with his glasses hung on top of the bridge of his nose. A slight snort and his vision will be disjointed, dislocated, and so he held his breath as his feet kicked him across the room while trying his best not to snag on the cables riddled across the floor.

The camera at one edge of the ceiling blinked as it optimized an image of an old scientist into a room full of people. All wearing white and thick coats as they stood around in silence, thoughts locked on into the big monitor at the center of the room. Everyone was holding their breath, watching with widened eyes as the old man inserted the disc into a cocoon-shaped machine at the center of the poorly-lit room.

As he inserted the disc into the control panel, the scientist didn't think that much about it. Soon he will not be able to recognize himself, and soon no human being will be able to. The smartest man in the world was at his last leg in both spirit and physique. Slowly supporting himself up from the wheeled-chair he was resting upon for so long, the cocoon opened up to reveal another chair. This one more comfortable and colored in blue, the same color the cocoon's neon lights that surrounded and highlighted the chair.

And so he rested on that same chair and let himself go in a relaxed state.

He closed his weary eyes and let his impaired ears hear the last moment of his life. A storm of machinery became a symphony in his minds, too scared to see what it was with his own two eyes. It could trick him his hopes and despairs, and so only tears were shed as the cocoon closed with him inside it. What was it that he had longed for all his life that he had dedicated so much patience to?

As his consciousness disappear, he hardly knew it too.

* * *

_"What do you think Fate is? That was in everyone's mind. Across the ages and shattering the boundaries and concepts made by humanities it still became a hugely debated meaning. What becomes of the world governed not by fate? What becomes of such fate in which it wasn't tied to the world? Only fate would know."_

_-Hearn_


	2. Globin

1997

* * *

Hurricanes slowly passed by the southern Japanese shores. In its leave the population of Japan found themselves surrounded in white droplets of snow moving in from a roundabout course. Winds blowing from Mie prefecture kindly brushed against the hairs of people looking at the empty roads leading northeast. Arms on the bridge's railings, the brown-haired girl looked at where the vast dark sky and the line of grey road converged at. On the sidewalks were shops and signs adorning the peaceful mid-day life of the normal Aichi prefecture.

Holding an unlit cigarette between her teeth, the girl stood up straight with her eyes closed tight. She pulled out a lighter from her white coat, held its pipe below the cigarette and clicked the trigger. Feeling something was wrong she peeked with one eye and found the cigarette unlit. She clicked the trigger a few more times, and to her disappointment the cigarette remained unlit.

Shaking her head she walked to the western end of the crossing platform and head down. The first alley she saw she went inside and searched the horribly lit street for a cheap eating place. She didn't care what it was, as long as she could get someone to get her cigarette lit. Past the disposed crates of beer bottles she found herself a small shop's backdoor at the end of the back alley. Across the end of the alley were shops lined up, but dirtier than what were presented in the main roads.

Thinking about it, she had heard about this street before. But the name escaped her.

What made her enter the third ramen store she saw was anyone's guess, but seeing it quietly unpopulated by its patron made her quite relieved. The four of them were young adults in age, all of them female except one whose gender she couldn't ascertain too well. His or her hair was cut short and bleached white. Green vest over white shirt with puffy shoulder seemed to be straight out of the fashion magazine. She didn't catch whether he or she wore pants over his or her crotch, but the wide-shape of her hips and legs was the line that blurred the sex inside her mind.

"What'll it be," a rude greeting from the server behind the counter, which was also the kitchen. He was the owner of a particularly small shop, but it was wide enough for the cook to feel himself comfortable in. Six tables on the side and back of the shop with a long sitting table across the counter. "Been getting a lot of people your age coming in lately. I don't know if business is booming or if I'm losing money from this."

The man's body was round, but it was not to the point that he was fat. He was handling his preparation in uniform rather well, washing the bowl and adjusting the temperature of the boiling pot. The noodles themselves weren't crudely treated, but its preparation were quite hastily done. What the girl understood was the effort that the cook gave to making his noodles, though his shop's cleanliness leaves a lot of things to be desired.

"Uncle, give me a lighter," said the now sitting girl as she wiggled the unlit cigarette hanging from her mouth.

"Sorry young miss. This is a non-smoking area. It ruins the taste of the broth."

The girl clicked her tongue. She placed the cigarette back inside the box and placed them in the right side of her coat's pocket. "Then just give me the cheapest lunch set."

"Sorry young miss. As much as I would like to smoke I just don't want to mess around with the broth's taste. I assure you my noodles are at the top of the class in taste." He adjusted his cooking cap before moving on to preparing his noodles. Afterward, a quick preparation began and as he pushed in the noodles to the cooking pot he prepared a wiped clean bowl and placed a few seasonings inside it. Timing his rhythm just right, he opened a pot full of hot and cooked water into the bowl, mix it with the seasoning, before picking the now cooked and hot noodles into the bowl with a gentle motion. Sprinkling a few onion leaves and a few bits of grated radish on the center of the bowl, the man handed the bowl of ramen toward the brown-haired girl. "We got hot green tea for the drink, but if you want I can give you water instead."

"Is it iced?"

The cook turned toward the girl with a raised eyebrow. "Do you want to have a cold, miss? At this weather you're best drinking something hot."

"I'm not much of a fan of hot water."

"Then hot tea it is. Green's fine with you, right?"

"Is it straight from the leaves? My stomach can't deal with pre-packaged tea."

"You're such a demanding customer, young miss." The cook sighed. "Thinking about it I've never seen you around these parts before. Are you new in Chiryu? Never seen you around these parts before at least."

"Mind your own business, Uncle."

"I am. Can't have some shady girl visiting my shop and the next day my store's becoming a hub for junkies can I?" The man placed the girl's tea beside the hot ramen. "Here's your tea. I made it quite hot so be careful."

"Are you a book person or a movie person, Uncle?"

The uncle scratched his chin as his mind wandered around the room. "Well, I'm not much of a reader as I am a watcher. Never seen that many movies though." He sat opposite of the girl, eyes looking straight at her. "Why do you ask?"

"Ever seen Star Wars?"

"No, what's that? Some foreign movie?"

"I'll come back here again," the girl shook her head as she turned toward her food. "Everyone deserves to watch Star Wars."

The Cook raised his eyebrow higher than before. "Okay? I appreciate it," the cook said as he whispered a soft 'weirdo' and pulled out a newspaper from one of the drawers below the counter. "We only have a single TV and it's not even that good over there," said the man as he pointed toward a lonely square-shaped television supported by a single sturdy metal support opposite of where a fan was busily whirring about. "I don't even have anything to play this "Star Wars" you're speaking off of."

"I got it all covered, don't worry."

The girl unwrapped the red scarf around her neck and placed it on her lap. She looked at the bowl of noodle before her, and found it quite the lackluster of presentations. The noodles were a little too baggy and the broth was too clear for something that smelled very seasoned. The placement of the side-toppings were haphazard and felt like a tacky add-on. Upon closer inspections the bowl was not cleanly wiped on the undersides and placing the chopsticks and the soup spoon on the bowl itself was either an innocent way to disrespect his customer or an underhanded effort to make her leave.

Then she looked on the tea, where a tiny dot of dead ant was floating about merrily.

"Uncle what the hell's this?" The girl picked the cup of tea and let its content be visible to the cook, reaching forward and behind the counter. "There's an ant in my tea and you're calling it a decent food service?"

"It's calcium. It's good for your boney-looking body, miss."

"Why I'd never—"grumbled the brown-haired girl as she scooped the ant with two of her fingers and flicked it toward the cook. "I picked the wrong restaurant again," and then she sighed with all her heart and soul placed into it. The girl then took a slight slurping of the noodles, and slammed the table in hastily decided anger. "This tastes like Nissin's instant noodles! What!?"

"Well what did you expect? This isn't exactly a first-class noodle shop," the cook glared at the visibly angry girl, though the mention of 'again' still lingered in his mind. "I'm not that much of a cook so all i did was learn the tastes from instant noodles. If you don't like the noodle just leave it there and I'll recommend you a good store three blocks away from here. How's that?"

"I don't have any money for that expensive stuff."

"Then shut your trap and eat."

"Where do you come from, cook?" the girl said as she ate her noodles. "South or North?"

"North," his face slowly turned into a portrait definition of anger. "What's it to you?"

"Surprising, is all," the girl said in a purposefully slow manner. "How can someone from the north make such a bad soup? The mind boggles on that question."

"Fine, I get it my noodles suck. I'll do better your next visit my generous queen."

"Good, otherwise my viewing of Star Wars will be explicitly ruined."

"You're still on about this "Star Wars" of yours. What the hell does that have anything to do with this? What even is a "Star Wars" anyway?"

"Well," the brown-haired female stopped, pondering what to say. Suddenly she picked up the bowl and savagely ate the rest of the noodles before slurping the soup and gulping it down her throat before refreshing her excited taste buds with the refreshing warmness of her green tea. After setting both helping apparatuses down, she let out a silent belch. "A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away..."

* * *

Her green hair whiffed against the cold air blown by her desk's fan. The maiden sitting on the desk rested her back on the recliner, slowly mesmerizing herself in the deepest parts of her thoughts. Her body was warm enough with only having a white and thick coat for cover. She was mumbling a lot, though not quite sleep-talking. The back of her neck was slowly relaxing to the beat of the song coming out of the stereo from one of the open-windowed cabinet to the side of her drawing board filled to the edges with foreign symbols. Even the writer herself hardly knew the full meaning of.

The room she usually slept her afternoon away was neatly cleaned and everything was placed tidily. The desk before the girl contained a personal computer, a stack of documents, and a study-light beside the growingly-soothing fan. The desk had a few drawers attached below it, but those contained mostly snacks to refresh the ever-weary mind of said green-haired girl. But the stocks had been depleted for a short-while. She could just restock it tomorrow or tonight, and for the present she wanted a good afternoon breather.

Just as she was about to enter the state of great calm the door to her study was opened.

"We're closed for the day," the green-haired girl weakly mumbled.

The brown-haired girl let herself in anyway. Strutting in unannounced wearing a thick white coat with her neck wrapped around with a red scarf. Her blue jeans were finely making out the shape of her legs, and her sneakers made a distinct slight-squeak sound due to the condition of its soles. "Since when is your laboratory a shop, Nitori?"

"That's Professor Nitori to you, Shrine Maiden," the girl adjusted her cap like she would a ten gallon hat. "Now unless you have a good reason to interrupt my resting time I have to ask you to leave at once."

"Oh shut up, I brought you a bunch of cucumbers," and that definitely earned the brown-haired girl Nitori's full attention. She sighed as she placed a box of cucumbers wrapped in plastic on top of the professor's desk. After letting Nitori pick one of the cucumbers she brought the brown-haired girl looked closely toward the drawing board. "What are you researching anyway? The only thing I can understand out of this is you need a lot of energies for it."

"I didn't know a Shrine Maiden is familiar with scientific symbols."

"Zip it, kappa. As much as I like to pray to Gods and Goddesses dwelling all over Japan I'd rather fix my problems without relying on them. Most people do anyway." She scanned the drawing boards a bit more and looked at the equations produced from the prime formula at the top-left. "No matter how much I looked at your work it never cease to amaze me. Why aren't you scouted by some firms by now is totally beyond me."

"I'm content with just being a chem whiz," said Nitori as she bit a chunk off of a freshly washed cucumber. "Managing an apothecary is already a rewarding job."

'Well, I'll get straight to the point," the Shrine Maiden placed a fully-filled small bag onto the professor's desk. "I need some help regarding this little package of mine, doc. Maybe you can help me do something about it?"

Nitori looked at the small bag before her. It was leopard-patterned and hued like a live-skinned fur. Her small fingers opened the bag inside slightly as she mumbled sarcastically, "This better not be some sort of illegal substances you're forking off of me."

"Trust me," the girl placed her red scarf on the empty hanger beside the door. "It will surely be worth your while."

* * *

"Hey, Ms. Konpaku," a blonde-haired and tanned girl shifted her sight to the friend on her right. "Did you bleach your hair? How did you manage to make it look so natural? My blonde hair can't ever feel like something that suits me right at all!"

"Because these strands of hairs are natural."

The white-haired girl responded, before taking a sip from her instant-brand coffee. She loved these instant brands of coffees and how nice they feel as they move down her throat. Even without focusing that much on the flavor, she knew what the brand of this coffee was. "And call me Youmu. Calling me with any other name would be unbearably awkward for friends, don't you think so?"

"Well now that you mention it, I think so too," the girl replied with a big grin. "In that case, how about this? I can call you Youmu and you can call me Sa-chan."

"Don't you have a better nickname for yourself, Sa-chan?" Said the girl sitting opposite of her across the table.

"Yeah, yeah, shut up why dont you?" the blonde-girl sassily replied to her goading. It was then they started snorting before the both of them laughed out loud. "But I can't believe you'd recommend us to this dinky ramen shop, Youmu." Sa-chan continued. "It kinda doesn't really fit well with your whole trendy but serious image, y'know?"

"Oh yeah I totally agree with you, Sa-chan. I'd figure she'd take us to somewhere more high-classed. Like McDonalds or something. Don't you think so too Ran?" The girl's light brown hair and red windbreaker was her key-defining feature. But above them was her eternally happy grin. She was asking the girl beside her, who really didn't what to answer with. "It's surprising, right Ran?"

"Whatever," Ran brushed her wavy-blue hair aside. Half uncaring, half stumped for answers. "It doesn't matter where Ms. Konpaku took us to. I'll trust her judgements." Contrasting the demeanor and clothing of the girl that called her name, she wore blue bomber jacket and blue-purple striped shirt underneath it. "You want to go to McDon's or something, Ririka?"

"Well, not really but you know, right?"

"No?"

"Mou, just call me Youmu, Ran," the white-haired girl suddenly cut in, sensing something awkward was incoming. "Besides, I heard this ramen store was a really good hang out place. At least that's what the landlady managing my flat said so." Youmu explained as she bashfully smiled. "She's a sweet aunt, that woman."

"You live in a flat, Youmu?" Ririka's eyes twinkled as she yelled in pure excitement. "That's totes so cool! Mind if we crash into your place later?"

Youmu looked at the brown-eyed girl whose eyes matched her hair. She wasn't really planning on anyone visiting her place today, but she guessed it couldn't hurt to have someone visit once in a while. "I can't refuse you, can I Ririka?" From her small nose she sighed, but not out of frustration. Quite the opposite in-fact. "Fine, you can come to my flat tonight. But you're going to treat us to snacks!"

With everyone but Ririka throwing in a cheer, Ririka was suddenly placed into a bad spot. "But I'm quite broke this month! Oh me and my big mouth!"

"No takebacks, right Youmu?" Sa-chan happily teased as she jokingly elbowed Youmu's arm. "I'm excited to see Youmu's room!"

"Don't get too hyped up, okay?" Youmu couldn't help but grin.

And as the quad-squad finished their discussion, the cook went out of the counter carrying a big white tray. On it were four bowls of noodles and a few smaller bowls for the side-toppings they ordered. Placing each bowls perfectly matching the one that ordered them, he then turned to the counter to pick up a tray of cups and a big pitcher filled with green tea. As the man said "Enjoy the food", the girls greeted back by praying for a good meal. Satisfied, the cook returned to the kitchen with a smile.

* * *

1989

* * *

Scarlet colored mist appeared before the confused woman walking home from a hard day of work. This confused her, but most of all she was afraid. Cursing her luck, she shuddered to the materialization of a young girl from out of the red curtain. It would be absolutely the time for her to bolt back the way she came if she wasn't fully mesmerized in the otherworldly appearance's absolute charisma.

"You," the apparition pointed her lanky index finger toward her, images of a farmer pointing toward a cattle came to the poor girl's mind. "Would you mind donating your blood for a good cause?"

The girl stood tall, but her body was like a child. She was as tall as Ibuki's chest, a little over the average height of a japanese woman. Yet her demeanor was like someone that had lived for a long, long time. Her wardrobe consisted of a white Victorian dress that had a lot of pink frills laced onto each possible ends of the dress's limbs. Her shoes were thick red heels that clacked rather loudly from the girl's walking force. A frilly night-cap adorned the girl's midnight shoulder-length hair, and it was as if each strands of hair was alive and conscious.

But nothing sent warnings upon warnings than the foreign-looking girl's crimson red eyes that stared deeply into the woman's soul.

The office worker was hesitant on answering, but her lips forced out a reply against her better judgement. "For what cause?"

Section manager Ibuki just couldn't believe her luck. The usually fortunate and resourceful Kaneko Ibuki was supposed to be living her life in a perpetual and long-lasting peace. She hadn't married yet, for she had worked her whole life through the corporate ladder. Ibuki had always dreamed her endgame to marry in the tail-end of her career to die in a peaceful serenity in her own home surrounded by people who cared the most for her, her kids, and her grandkids too. But she might as well say her goodbyes and write a will this instant, because she knew that she won't be coming out of this situation alive.

Especially not when a doll-like creepy child with western-looking clothing were to greet her during this late hours of the night.

"Now, now, don't be afraid. I'm sure Mother Mary would be proud of your benevolent offerings."

Ibuki couldn't help but instantly clutch onto the Rosario inside her suit's pocket. The mere mention of her religious upbringing made her realize she was dealing with what the bible called "the devil". Though her tempting word framed her as something that only heavens could ever produce, she must not be nothing more than a snake. And Ibuki firmly believed so.

She had nothing to lose.

So she pulled what was in her pocket and sprung it forward before the ghastly little girl before her. In an instant, the girl before the section manager clutched her chest and her eyes shot wide awake. Her mouth was wide open, as if she was trying to scream something from her lung but couldn't manage to do so. In pain, the girl fell on her knees and slowly turned into the same scarlet mist that she had formerly appeared from.

"I... I can't believe that works," Ibuki laughed a little as she kissed the golden Rosario softly. Afterward, she placed it inside her suit's pocket and made her merry way across the back alley. The end of the alley was just before her, where the lights of cars passing by were moving in their own pace. Her home would be just two blocks away from here, and after a nice hot shower she could forget this had ever happened to her.

Stepping out of the alleyway with her right fist, she found herself back to the place where she met the odd-looking girl. The grime on the walls and the littered grounds were exactly the same as she remembered it to be. It was then that she noticed what she was seeing and feeling before was an illusion, and even if she pull out her religious item the second time it will not work again.

"I'm hurt, you know? The instant someone see me they always say I'm a she-devil."

Ibuki turned around, found herself face-to-face with the same girl from before, and cried out in desperation. "Stay away from me you monster!"

"I've heard those insults so many time before," the girl chuckled. "But it never got old. Not during the Crusade, not during Constantinople, and that one time during my visit to Gulag was just an unforgettable experience for everyone involved." But for this one, she absolutely belted out a huge and quaking laughter out of her tiny mouth. "You wouldn't know though, you had to be there to see it happen, or to put it nicely, see _me_ happen."

Ibuki was shaking. Her sight became hazy with tears flowing down her cheek as her legs gave up. She fell on her bottom in the middle of the alley and froze. She was now below the eye-level of the Victorian-looking oddity before her, and if what she felt between her legs was what she thought it was it wouldn't be the cause of her death.

"Aww, don't be so scared." The girl was now before the fallen woman. She bent her body forward with one hand holding the woman's chin and pressing it with such force that the woman couldn't break away. The woman saw herself before the face of death; a little girl's face that stared at her with two of her canines sprouting out of her tiny lips. Those tiny lips that was the color of the pale moonlight continued with the flowery assurance, "It won't hurt a bit."

Ibuki instantly felt two holes being drilled to the side of her neck, and from then the vampire drew her late-night snack. At that point she was not a corporate executive, she was a meal ticket. She was dehumanized, nothing more than an object, but at that same instant she didn't care about what she was at all. The truth was pleasant for her. Almost as much as she felt from gaining a successful and productive day at work if not more.

After leaving her face with the biggest grin she had ever constructed out of emotional release, the woman fell to the ground. Not moving even one bit. Not even when the vampire pulled out her fangs out of the human livestock.

Wiping her mouth, the girl slowly turned her head like an owl toward the intersection of the dark alleyway. She had found herself a little girl peeking from one end of the corner, terrified and afraid. Judging from her anatomical structure, the girl was still in her young age of eight or nine.

This fact just made the vampire smile devilishly.

* * *

1998

* * *

"Another one?" The brown-haired girl furrowed her brows as she walked toward the crime scene. The unlit cigarette hanging on her lips was quietly lit up by one of her assistant. Puffing up a few smoke had always helped the girl calm her nerves, but the scene before her evoked a more mysterious feeling. "Damn it can't I catch a little break?"

The setting was an abandoned house in the middle of the sub-urban area near the ocean. The faint smell of the sea was nearly intoxicating for the brown-haired girl, and she tried her best not to smell too much of it. Inside the dining room of the abandoned house was laid a girl on the dining table with half of the blood inside her completely drained. The girl had been rushed into the hospital and was now in a vegetable-like state. Though she found it tasteless, the whole cases similar to these felt like a big joke toward the Aichi's Prefecture Police Force. All the cases that had been happening from three months ago felt like something a degenerate psychopath would do to spite everyone involved in those investigations.

"I wish I could just take a long and extended paid vacation."

"Now don't be like that, ace detective," a golden-haired woman walked from the inside of the crime scene, greeting her subordinate with her free time by tipping her gray beret. "This is your job, you know? The taxpayer paid you money so you can receive their paycheck."

The subordinate, however, felt insulted.

"Oh great you're already here anyway, chief. Why do I have to be the stand-in detective?"

"You are an ace detective transferred from Tokyo. I would expect you to act more professionally."

"Not when you're around, Fox."

"How rude," the woman in a nice get-up, black and golden set of thick coat like that of an elite agent with a colored tie that matched the woman's eyes, replied. "You make it sound like foxes are horrible and deceitful creatures. That's the job of the tanukis!"

The brown-haired girl stared toward her blonde-haired superior with a dead sarcastic set of gaze, before ignoring her as she checked the crime scene.

No sign of struggle as usual, as if the victim was involved in a shady cult. But there were no signs of anything resembling a shady cult present. If there was something that the brown-haired ace detective could get from all of these cult-like sets of incidents was the victims were at the very least placed into a set of hypnotic daze before the actions by the perpetrators were conducted.

The closest thing she could think of was the involvement of drugs. A new type that she had never seen or heard before.

She didn't like this feeling; the feeling of going into a difficult case unprepared.

The more she thought about it the more it didn't make any sense for her.

Just what exactly happened here?

* * *

_A mysterious case had shocked one particular region of Japan. The victims were drained of half of their blood. With the police force placed in a state of confusion, what could possibly behind this abnormal cases of assaults? Find out the truth behind the shocking cases that had suddenly surfaced into public knowledge._

_-Bunbunmaru News Flash. Written and Edited by Aya Shameimaru. 2nd of April, 1998._


	3. Red Cross (I)

Spotlights were turned on in unison, giving light to the darkened stadium surrounding a square-shaped battle arena. There were four poles on each corner and three sets of ropes creating barriers for its competitors. Those ropes were not created to keep people outside of the square-shaped platform, but to keep people inside to face their destiny.

"Ladies and Gentleman!"

A referee yelled toward the mic before his mouth as his other hand pointed upwards to pump the crowd in what was about to come. Eating in the cheering from the fans and supporters sitting comfortably on each of the stands, the referee continued with his pause for dramatic effect. It took the crowd a little over two minutes to calm down, but the big smile on the referee never wavered in the slightest.

It only grew bigger.

"Welcome to our annual New Japanese Pro Wrestling big match of Nineteen-Ninety-Seven!" Amidst the fans going crazy and the spectators losing their mind, the referee announced the sides that will be fighting in this glorious match tonight. "In the western corner we have our Foreign Invader and the nemesis of our beloved Jushin "Thunder" Liger, Suuuper Ligeeer!"

As his name was called, a mysterious entity appeared cloaked in his silver and menacing costume that evoked a gentle yet terrifying demon. Its eyes were gleaming in red, as if they were burning solemnly. The costume itself was ridiculously detailed, and the fans of said wrestler found that fact very charming yet detrimental. There was something disconnecting about it, and people didn't need two eyes to mull it over the fact that it was an ordinary human in the costume.

That whole gimmick didn't work as well as Juushin's was, but the man in the suit kept himself in-character. He pointed around the ring like these humans were primitive savages that should be flipped off any chance he got. That was the angle and the story. That was the set-up. Craving in the moment, Super Liger raised both arms as if he was goading these beasts, and it worked. People began jeering at his presence, and the man in the suit kept going.

"Alright, that's enough," a sudden and distinctly female voice resounded over the Tokyo Dome. "I'm not here to defeat a man in a costume. Take off your stupid looking mask, Super Liger."

The spotlight then shined on a pint-sized girl at the eastern corner of the ring. Her long brown hair that ran as far as her legs were shining from the reflections. Her attire was simple: A white vest and a purple skirt with brown boots for footwear. Her hands were on her hips, showing off the arm restrains which still had what was left of its broken chains dangling from it, and her chest puffed out, in a show of confident boast of her skill and fighting prowess, toward the challenger.

"In the eastern corner we have our favorite Pintsized Powerhouse from the Japanese Female Professional Wrestling: The Little Oni!" And to that role call the little girl raised both of her arms and pose herself as the unbending ironman that she was. "With her tiny figure you best not be deceived that each of her limbs pack so many energy it could destroy a mountain or two if she wanted to. But don't even think for a second that she had no skills on the rings, folks. She got a lot of way to make her opponent faints, and launching them out of the atmosphere is one of her favorite moves!"

"Come on ref, you're selling me a little too hard there," The Little Oni grinned from ear to ear. "I'm not that good."

With the cheering that the little lady got, Super Liger wasn't entirely too bothered by the apparent distinction between his persona and hers. He admitted to himself that it was irritating though, and it was time for him to take her down a peg. Looking from his perspective, he wasn't sure of what to make of the Little Oni: Was she a midget or a really short lady? Either way she stood there as a pro wrestler, and every wrestler had their gimmicks.

So what was hers?

Super Liger pointed his index finger toward her, before using it to make a slitting motion across her neck. He wasn't supposed to be in this match, but due to a contract deal he was obligated to be in this dinky square circle somewhere far from home. He hated this particular side of pro-wrestling, especially becoming a wrestler whose gimmick was so outrageous it couldn't possibly ever sell, but he had to soldier on. A man's got to have principles, and his was seeing things through until the end.

The referee walked into the corner and the two wrestlers were getting ready for battle. Super Liger braced himself for the incoming attack from the midget, but she just stood there putting on airs to the wrestling fans around them. She raised both arms into the air and let the screams of her fans, mostly girls, roar throughout the vicinity. But then she turned toward the foreign invader, and like Bruce Lee she goaded him to come to her in full force.

What an absolute show-off, thought the man in the silver costume.

Although her performances sure were able to keep people from never slowing their ballistic sides.

The girl got talent on her mic performance that was for sure, but how about her in-ring performance?

Super Liger dashed forward and pummeled the girl's stomach with a cross-arm lunge. It was easy to pick the girl off of the ground because she was short, and it was easier to slam her into the eastern pole due to how light her body was. There was a loud slam that echoed throughout the now silent dome.

It was due to shock from how easy it was for a grown man to have her way with their favorite little girl, but that was the situation Super Liger and Little Oni were supposed to be selling. It was part of the act, a carefully calculated choreography that the two had practiced individually. The confrontation so far was lifted straight from the wrestling books 101, and it was written there for a good reason.

But it wasn't over. Not yet.

Super Liger picked the Oni by her arms and launched her body upwards. The girl stood there, not fazing at all as if she was unconscious. Then came the moment where he slammed the back of the girl into the ring, hard.

Some of the audience started standing up from their seat. It was a nail biter for sure.

As Super Liger was getting himself the booing and cursing, he reveled in it and basked in his infamy. As a decent human being, he wasn't a subscriber to the pain against midgets around the world. As a pro-wrestler, he was supposed to be an example of a good heel. It was less for the green slip and more for no slipping in his careers.

But as Super Liger looked at the suddenly quiet audience, he realized that it was going to be an unconventional match for him.

Looking behind him, the Oni rose. She was now sitting on the same spot where she had been slammed down prior. Then the little girl turned her head toward Super Liger with a big grin as she stood up while proclaiming to everyone who can hear her.

"Is that all?"

Super Liger couldn't believe it himself. That was one of the more exhausting move that a pro-wrestler could receive and the girl just sat herself back up like nothing had ever happened. But he'll bite. He'll unleash his power as a pro wrestler at her and she will go down in style. He wanted to see how long the girl could endure, and as long as she laid motionless on the ground, he won.

And so began Super Liger's ineffective pummeling. He tried to punch the living daylights out of the girl, and even resorted to elbowing her at a dangerous angle. It would give the referee enough reason to call the heel on his bad and unprecedented behavior but when he saw the Oni not even flinching from those blows there were no reason for that to stop.

There was no way the producers wouldn't capitalize on this.

The barbarity never stopped from Super Liger. He kept his barrages of punches, elbows, kneads, and kicks toward the seemingly defenseless little brunette, but those moves just wouldn't do her in. The more he struggled to sunk her into the thin white mattress the more Super Liger found himself helpless before the littlest of presence from his opponent, as if he was trying to dent a sturdy and concrete wall with the flimsiest and rustiest tools.

It didn't feel like a set-up at all, because all combat moves he previously launched were all real and dangerous. Some of them even banned due to safety issues.

But the damned brat just won't flinch.

Super Liger had it with this disgusting farce. So he went out of the ring, picked up a folding chair to the protest from the commentators and stood menacingly at the center of the ring. With the chair on his hand, he banged the chair a few times on the mattress. The sound that came from its echo was both grating, but powerful.

Super Liger then dashed as fast as he could. He turned around, carrying the folding chair close to his chest, and let his back bounce on the ropes that acted as a barrier.

But that was a misconception. Those ropes were never something that hindered the wrestlers: They were tools to defeat their opponents.

A one-time visit to the ropes weren't enough. He doubled down by striding across the ring and bouncing on the other side. He tripled down by dashing back to the first ropes he had bounced before. It was apparent at this point that he was going to do something ridiculously risky, getting creative with the process for massive undertaking.

After the fifth time he had built up his speed bouncing on the ropes he launched his chair toward the little girl and hit her square on the head from its blunt edges. Finally the girl flinched as blood began splashing from one side of her forehead. Finally the Oni took a step back, shocking everyone that saw what just happened in-front of their eyes.

But it wasn't over.

At the same time the chair bounced off of the head, Super Liger launched a kick in mid-air. Using both of his legs to press his entire weight into the chair and into the Little Oni. She finally fell on the ground with a pool of blood flowing below her head.

Everyone stared at the girl that was now lying motionless on the ground, and every eyes in the room became affixed on Super Liger. He was out of breath, clearly trying his best just to recover from a trick that was done quite perfectly if he had to pat himself in the back. Except maybe he had executed the trick a little too well.

But there was nothing he could do but slowly raising his hands to the sky, proclaiming that he was the best between them.

Then it happened.

In the shadowy corners of Super Liger's vision, the Little Oni sat back up as if nothing had ever happened.

The audience didn't know if they should exude a sense of joy or a sense of fear. The feat that the little girl had exposed before them didn't befit a human. Her actions were bereft of humanity and tapping to the undiluted sense of abnormality. She stood up, slowly, gracefully, and without saying a word. Her expression said it all, though covered in a slowly dripping stream of red.

The big grin on her face signaled her counterattack.

And Super Liger knew it wouldn't end well for him.

The little girl walked toward Super Liger, and each steps she took felt like the earth below them beginning to crack and crumble. The man in the costume instinctively took a step back, and then another. He tried to reach for the folding chair by crouching, but once he asserted himself unable to reach the chair he forced himself to the ropes.

He had nowhere else to go, but the girl still made her way toward him.

The girl was just a few centimeters above his waist, but that was what made the girl extremely disturbing. Maybe the referee didn't sell her too much. Maybe she was the extremely powerful pintsized powerhouse.

However, he still had his pride as a pro-wrestler.

So he charged through the impossible odds.

And was met with a flying lariat that flashed his senses black and white.

* * *

"So, what do you think?"

The video was paused with a touch of a button. With the remote on her fingertips the Little Oni bask on the figure that was now standing proudly in the middle of the ring. She had been forcing the reporter of today to watch what appeared to be the recording of her matches from the start of the year before. It was no doubt a good wrestling match, her reporter thought so too, but she thought of it as an overplayed spectacle for sure.

"Well, Ms. Ibuki," started the reporter. "It was a pretty good match for sure, but what made that match the most memorable of all matches you've ever had before?"

"That's a good question," the brunette pointed at the black-haired reporter that dressed herself in as prim but stylish a manner as possible. "And it's something I can't answer that well. First of all, it's one of the turning points in my wrestling career. I used to be quite the jobber in the women's pro wrestling you see? Can't help myself but be the newbie that took the hit from the other senior wrestlers you feel me?

"Now that's directly related to my second point: The wrestling world changed that day. It was the start of a good year for wrestling. What I introduced to the crowd that day was not something you can find so easily in the east, but it was something you can easily find in the west. If I may ask this of you, miss reporter: Are you on the side of the East or the side of the West?"

The reporter fell silent.

And the brunette laughed. "Alright, that's pretty smart. I myself am a woman who believed on the western side of things. I desire power and great spectacle. Thrills that one can rarely encounter in their life. I made myself the Eastern Undertaker in my pursuit of becoming the unstoppable force of wrestling that will make everything simple. I desire not respect from my peers nor will I ever respect them, except if they are strong enough to defeat me. Though that's just the gimmick for now I intend to follow through with it."

A big word from a wrestler with barely a year of experience under her belt. This interview itself was just her boasting, even though she knew it could ruin her predetermined image in her promos. Either she was handed a lot of silver spoons or she was laying twenty-four karat gold the size of a goose eggs. But the reporter's input didn't matter in the least.

What she needed to write was Suika Ibuki's interview in verbatim.

"And finally, this is kind of embarrassing to say believe me," the wrestler rubbed the bridge of her nose bashfully. "It was nice to be viewed as the face of the ring for once. Those rigorous days of training and calmly taking it in finally bore fruit. I was there in the ring as the hero of the story, not the villain. I hope from now on I can always be the absolute force of justice"

Afterward the girl chuckled, before breaking out into a big laugh.

The reporter didn't know what to say to that, but her laughter was evidently contagious.

* * *

1998

* * *

Thinking back, the first time she was called into the supervisor's office was when she had received her first promotion. The smell of lavender filled the room, and a tense atmosphere appeared with each striking ticking from the clock placed above the exit. As usual, she would knock the door first before entering the room.

"Come in," replied the stern but soft voice from behind the door. "The door's unlocked."

"Boss, I'm here with Suika Ibuki's interview draft," the reporter said as she let herself in with thirty pages of documents in her hands. Twelve being the interview and eighteen being the background stories. Some she found intriguing if true, but out of professionalism she refused to make it anything personal. "Where do you want me to put it?"

"The usual cabinet," said the boss from behind the large desk at the end of the room. A single left hand pointed its index finger toward one of the white shelves stacked with various documents of varying shapes and sizes. "And after that I want you to take a seat over there," the index finger moved toward the empty chair opposite of her. "We need to talk."

"About what?" asked the girl as her hand stored the document in the bottommost shelf. "If it's about another promotion, I don't think I'm good enough to be one of the executives in this company." It wasn't just a show of modesty, because she meant it. Her workload already swamped her in her current position, and climbing the corporate ladder was just not the life she was dreaming of. "Do you accept if I decline your offer early?"

"Don't worry, it's not about that," it was faint but she could hear her supervisor laughing quite loftily. "Unless you want to decline covering your next hit piece."

With that alone she had her ear unconsciously perking up. Her smile as she looked at her boss was like that of a curious cat. "Tell me more."

There were a number of things that Aya noticed today: The sun was shining brightly, the flowers were dancing wildly as the petals were being blown away by a gentle and relaxed zephyr just outside the window. Her co-workers were looking at her weirdly, like finding a beached whale lonely with its live flashing before their eyes. Maybe because she was skipping along the 15th floor of her publication company heading out from her editorial management staffs with the biggest smile and the happiest expressions on her face.

"You're completely creeping me out, you know that?"

"I know."

Her happiness carried over into the lunch hour, painting a weird atmosphere around the cafeteria she usually hung around in with her colleagues. Hatate Himekaidou and Momiji Inubashiri, both being her juniors in their line of work couldn't have been feeling more awkward than they were right now.

That was until Aya stopped eating her lunch midway and started dancing around their table.

"Okay, what the hell is your disease?" Hatate angrily said as she pointed the pointy ends of her forks at the now seated girl. "Did you eat something funny this morning? You're not on or off of your meds, are you?"

"Oh, no no no, no. I'm just really, really happy right now!"

"But why?" Momiji said after she drank her refreshment, grape-flavored soda, and cleaned up her eating utensils. "I can get it if you just got a promotion or something, but this was something truly unprecedented."

"I got the ok."

"The ok for what?"

"My hit piece of the year."

Hatate thought about it for a second before she gasped and slammed both of her hands on the edges of the table. "No. Way." She made it extremely sure that she didn't misunderstood, so she asked again. "You mean about that strange cases? You were now given an okay by those stiff jerks from the editorial staffs?"

"You know it!"

"How in the world did you manage that?" Hatate was utterly dejected, but she shook it off as she tried her best to find a good place left in her and congratulate her superior. Aya wasn't just a superior to her though, but someone much more important than that. "Congratulation Aya. Now you're one step ahead of me again."

"And what are you going to do about it?"

"I'm going to catch you in no time," Hatate assured Aya. It was only natural for a rival to congratulate the progress and success that one rival had attained. "Our eternal game of cat and mouse will never end and you know it's true."

"I just hope I'm not too slippery for you to catch," the older reporter taunted her junior as she reveled in the basking afterglow

"Don't worry. If you turned into a frog I'll find you your prince charming," replied the junior reporter.

As the two reporters started to tease each other by trying to wrestle each other into a tickle-hold, Momiji slowly took her tray of food to the finished cabinet and walked away from the soon-to-be scene of carnage. As she thought about what articles were left unedited or in need of various touch-ups, she heard a loud crash and bang from behind her.

* * *

24th of March, 1998  
14:12

* * *

After being chewed out by her superiors, Aya was given her letter of introduction from the supervisor herself. Looking closely at what appeared to be the silhouette letter sealed inside a signed white envelope, the back of the envelope had a signature wax seal that the supervisor loved so much. Not knowing much about her, what came up in the senior reporter's imagination was a shadowed and blurry figure for an older, more mature, and mysterious figure binding her peers with a penetrating glare.

Her first order from her superior was to introduce herself to the detective in-charge of the various cases pertaining to the same incidents. Finding her was supposed to be an easy job, because she was told the detective was living in one of Chiryu City's biggest shrines. Her supervisor said that she doubled as the caretaker when she was living here, working like a shrine maiden by the day and ace detective at night.

For her productive outings today, she wore her jet-colored soft cotton hat that gave warmth to her ears, a dark sunset-hued scarf over a fall-patterned leather winter coat. For her pants, she fancied a skin-tight denim jeans that reached as far as her brown leather boots were covering her legs. A bag of important journalist tools were slung over her shoulder, resting nicely on the right side of the reporter's hip.

"Living in Chiryu's shrine," she let her voice trailed off as one hand stroked her chin while the other laid out a small but packed with information notebook which belonged in her chest-pocket. "Could be the Chiryu's main branch of shrines. That supervisor does love talking in riddles, doesn't she?"

Passing by a park and hearing the wild cheer and jeer from it the reporter backpedaled almost instantly to look at the source of those loud voices. Now normally, depending on whose voices belonged to what she wouldn't force herself out of her way to approach them, but kids and teenagers are good sources of rumors. Aya Shameimaru was a firm believer that rumors are just half-truths, but those half-truths will spice up the eventual truths.

Playing all over the big jungle gyms were four small children. They wore different clothes that separated them from each other individually, but had enough common ideas on what they wore to exude various senses of being in a close-knit group of friends. As the raven-haired girl approached the quad-squad one of them was carefully teetering at one edges of the slippery playground attraction. The more she looked at the blue-coated girl, the more she feared for the worst to happen.

And so she picked up her pace. Slowly, she walked toward the little girl that was now dancing on the corner of the slippery pipes. The three other kids were watching her with absolute glee and clapping to her awkward choreography, but it was during their utmost fun that a large wind howled from the north and blew the dancing girl off-stance and off-balance.

She tried her best to keep herself balanced, and her friends reached for her to make sure she didn't fall from a three meters height. It was all in vain, because she quickly dipped down the outwards of the jungle gym head-first. On the side of the jungle gym was hard concrete. The blue-coated girl was sure that if her head were to hit that concrete floor she would become scrambled eggs and no one would ever know that it was her anymore.

"I got you kid!" Aya screamed as she ran at full speed and dived head first to catch the little girl. For a sprinter like Aya the distance was easy to cover. She had joined the athletic teams during her school days and had found herself being the ace of her school's track team. With just the right start and a good dash, the halcyon days of her sprinting career was slowly coming back to her.

The distance was just right.

Her legs were in her tip-top shape.

And now she pressed her weight down to a single muscle structure of her leg, propelling the mass of a 27 year old senior reporter.

She launched herself forward with her body just slightly above the ground. She turned around by using the power of her abdominal muscles and caught the blue-coated girl in her arms just before her small head had slammed itself into a messy destruction.

The kids were looking at the spectacle before them, before looking at each other, and gasped in awe at the sight of a human rocket.

"What was that!?"

"I don't know but the girl went bang and woosh!"

"That was amazing!"

The trio hurriedly leaped down from the jungle gym safely into the ground and surrounded the senior reporter with an apparent glee in their eyes. Aya found herself surrounded by little girls whose eyes had signs of complete interest in her. Then she looked at the little girl resting on her chest, and found her with eyes that were glittering a million stars at her. Slowly, Aya sat on the concrete ground while caressing her back as softly as she could.

As she sat, she mumbled silently: "Please no back pains!"

Thankfully, there weren't any complications with her back.

"Hey lady, who are you?" asked the little girl in blue. "Are you from outer space? Are you a robot?"

"Are you an alien?" greeted the one in a thick-looking black coat.

"She's not an alien dummy, she's an astronaut! They are the people who fights aliens!" the one in dark green winter jacket snidely replied. "Isn't that right lady?"

"No way, no way, she's neither of those!" Came the surprisingly small voice from the green-haired girl. "She's a superhero!"

"A superhero?" All of the other three kids instantly looked at Aya with an even more sets of starry eyes. But then they turned their eyes back toward the green girl. "What's a superhero?"

"They are the agents of justice! They fight for what is right and make it their absolute job to protect the peace and safety of the planet!" The green one pulled out a comic book from one of her coat pockets. "Look, like this character here: The Unstoppable Master Tengu!"

What the little girl in green showed the other girls were a figure of a costumed individual wearing a happy red tengu mask flying through the sky as if they were popping out of the comic book cover. The Master Tengu wore a plain black latex suit attached with an all-purpose utility belt on her waist and their hair was a painting of black and white. However, what caught Aya's attention was how the scarf that the tengu wore was eerily similar to the scarf that was around her neck right now.

"May I see that, uhm, may I ask for your name little lady in green?"

"Everyone calls me Dai!" The girl smirked as she handed Aya the comic book. "Here you go."

"I'm Rumia," said the one grinning widely. "So you're really not an alien?"

"I don't like my given name so call me Uri," the little girl in dark green clicked her tongue as she tried to continued, but she hesitated. "Forget it."

"Now you better remember my name okay, because I'm going to introduce myself once." The last one was happily jumping up and down on top of Aya's lap with the biggest and happiest smile on her face. "I am the genius Cirno! Its' nice to meet you, Master Tengu!"

Aya couldn't help but smile wryly. "I'm not this Master Tengu, girls. Sorry to burst your bubbles." She was expecting dejection from the little girls' eyes, but she found everyone just shaking their heads with eyes still glowing star lights toward her. "You couldn't possibly be thinking I'm this tengu shown in this comic book, could you?"

"But you are the Master Tengu!"

The four kids were saying that in unison.

"Alright, alright. Maybe I am that Master Tengu."

And every kids in the vicinity cheered.

* * *

24th of March, 1998

14:33

* * *

Aya was sitting on a vacant bench, surrounded by four little girls beside her. Two on her right and two on her left, they barraged her with questions upon questions related to her. What her name was, who she was working for, and which newspaper publication she belonged to. All of them pretty standard stuff, and it was a set-up for her to obtain information she couldn't get by conventional means later on.

After the short interrogations, Cirno excitedly told the Tengu where the shrine was. As she explained the direction, she touted: "Cirno's a genius, that's why CIrno know which shrine you're talking about!" Afterward she wanted to tag along with Aya and taking her gang along with her, but she'd rather go through the investigations solo.

"The Chiryu Shrine," the girl repeated the name engraved to the signpost beside the _torii_. "This was supposed to be where the ace detective live, but even Aya found it ridiculous that a Shrine Maiden would part-time as the strongest asset the Aichi Investigation Force had in their arsenal.

As she stared along the rising stairways, she found the strange case of incidents she was documenting becoming stranger and stranger. Not even the slowly darkening early-evening sky knew the exact degree of bizarre she will be getting into. Each steps she took toward the top made it explicitly obvious that what she was climbing toward had little semblance of a normal world.

The world is the stage, its surrounding the blank canvas.

Now on top of the stairs she had the bold view of a big shrine surrounded by fences overlooking a small forestation. She looked through the empty shrine-ground: roads made of pavements and grounds covered in lush green grass. It felt so serene, as if she was completely secured and protected in this small rectangular area.

She held onto her reporting tools inside her bag. Her hands were shaking, unsure of what was to come.

The shrine's serenity was eating her alive.

Noticing an offering box, however, lifted her suspicion of the otherworldly from her consciousness. It was a good indication that she was still in the world of the living. After placing a five-hundred yen coin inside the offertory, she rung the bell, and clapped her hands two times. Her eyes closed tight, she began to pray.

After a few minutes, something began to tug at her pants.

She looked down after she was done with her prayer. The sight of a cute little white dog made her heart jump from how cute it was. Its white seemingly-glowing fur combined with the handsome face that stared back at her gaze with its sharp but big eyes. The girl let her sensitive and girly side go as she crouched down and began petting the wolfdog all over as she hummed a few nice tunes out of her small lips.

"It seems my cute little wolfdog likes you, Ms. Tengu," a confident-sounding voice startled the reporter out of her daze of cuteness. Looking up was a figure of a woman in thick white coat, a red scarf around her neck, and blue jeans that reached up to where her loafers covered her feet. Her hair was tied in a ponytail and its luster color of hazelnut shone with the evening light. The woman on top of the shrine's wooden stairs was beautiful, that fact alone the reporter couldn't refute. "How about you come with me and have some tea? Green's fine with you, right?"

* * *

24th of March, 1998

15:22

* * *

The Chiryu Shrine consisted of a shrine ground, the main shrine, and a small house at the back of the main shrine. The shrine ground covered the area as far as the end of the small forestations around the shrine ground. There were many trees inside the shrine ground itself, but they were of different species. The forest would be consisting of pine trees, while the trees in the shrine ground were of oak and cherry trees.

The main shrine was the pagoda-like building that had the offertory box in-front of it. The roofing were wider than the usual shrines were designed, around 3 kens (about 1 9/11 meters) and more adorned with engravings and little statues of mystical beasts and deities. At the tip of the top of the pagoda rest a golden dragon that roared into the heaven, waiting for its time to ascend.

The small house at the back was just a regular resting home to rest in.

Sitting on one end of the table with the white snuggling wolfdog on her lap, Aya was waiting for her tea. The sounds of puttering kettle in the other room was loud enough for her to hear the metal container rattling. As her eyes wandered through the typical living room of a Japanese household, she found a picture inserted into a wooden frame.

The picture contained the girl living in the shrine surrounded by people in the same thick and white coat that she casually dressed herself in. She set the cute puppy aside and walked toward the magazine rack the frame was sitting on. She grabbed the wooden frame with her right hand and brushed the few dusts that it gathered with her left hand.

"You like that picture?" The door was slid back, closing the entrance from Aya. The brunette placed her cup of green tea on the table, but her presence was severely locked onto the reporter that was clearly not minding her manners. Sitting down, the girl sighed as she hugged her wolfdog and began ruffling the dog's fur. "What's the matter? Come and sit down. Don't you have something to talk about?"

Aya felt something forming in her throat, and then she swallowed it.

Sitting down, before her was a mysterious woman. She acknowledged how beautiful she was, but she couldn't help but feel threatened with her hospitality. The next thing Aya knew she would be invited to dinner, but that would be one offer she would never agree on.

"Did you know?"

"Know what?"

"The last time a reporter was in my doorstep he never came back," she quietly giggled. Afterward sighing her entire lung out. "He moved to another country, said he's trying to hide his face from the face of the earth. "I missed that guy, you know? So what does an esteemed reporter like you need in such a dinky and forgettable place like this, Ms. Aya Shameimaru?"

"You know of me?"

"Of course I do," the shrine maiden reached for a locker behind her and pulled out a newspaper with the year 1994. 'The name of the writer for these headlines of this newspaper from this date up to three years later was yours, no? Every single day your findings were still being talked about and even to this days it's still remembered quite fondly by the masses. You made a really good name for yourself, didn't you? Ms. Aya Shameimaru?"

"Just call me Aya."

"Then, Aya," asked the brunette as she looked straight into her eyes. "What do you need from me?"

"First of all, a letter of introduction from my superior," a letter was produced out of the bag of reporting tools. It was signed and addressed toward the shrine maiden. "If what I presume was correct then your name is Reimu Hakurei," said Aya as she slid the envelope toward her side of the table. "And this letter is for you."

Reimu picked up the envelope, opened it and read it with haste.

"Second of all, I want to interview the ace detective that recently moved in from Tokyo. Well, it had been half a year since you came to the Aichi prefecture so to speak. But in the world of news-coverage it might as well just be yesterday."

"And what's next?" her tone spoke a level of boredom. "You're not really here just to interview me, right? As I recalled your subordinate had covered that part of the story, as you put it, yesterday. What are you trying to fish out of me, Ms. Tengu?"

That name was uttered again, did she really look like a tengu to everyone?

"Third and lastly: Tell me about the S-24 incident of 1989. In full and unadulterated detail, Detective Hakurei," Aya stopped, continuing with a reiteration. "The blood donor incident."

The information took a second to register into her brain, but the smile that came out of the brunette's mouth was a pleasant and motivated one. Her eyes were shining brightly, reveling in what was about to come out of her mouth and the journalist's mouth.

"Have you ever heard about Vampires before?"

* * *

_"See the nefarious Super Liger as he fights the incredible Little Oni in an all-out no holds-barred slugfest from the 1997 All-Star Wrestling Match. Live from Tokyo Dome, this match will surely be recorded as one of the best fight in wrestling history. Don't miss out on its thrilling climax and amazing conclusion!"_

_From the backcover of All-Star Wrestling Match (1997): Super Liger vs The Little Oni. Live footages were edited in post-production by Cucumber Computer Editing House with the help of Suika Ibuki, the Little Oni herself. Contained in the bonus track: Suika Ibuki's turning-point interview._


	4. Red Cross (II)

1989 was the year where humanity felt a connection with each other and the world.

After the introduction of the world-wide music trend, humanity was truly having a great presence on each other's life. Still at threat from the constant and unending terror from the Cold War the world began its movement to maintain what could be salvaged from before the terror, though the feeling of looming despair was becoming ever present. And yet the world still lingered to hope that this round and small world inhabited by people could still be shared together with everyone. They hoped that someday an everlasting peace will arrive.

That was one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.

But they were neither man nor were they part of mankind.

The case: A mass case of illegal blood transfusions happening across the backstreets of Tokyo.

The victims: Since 24th of September, 1989, around twenty-four people had fallen victim to the perpetrator's unorthodox ways. All of them in a comatose state and now resting at a special isolated medical wards owned by the Eternity Corporations. Each and every one of those twenty-four individuals were of different genders, ethnicities, races, and nationalities. A glaring similarity between all of them were the wound they received on the side of their neck: Two holes that resembled a vampire's bite.

It was now her habit to traverse alleyways and the backstreets, in-case she would find another victim stranded on the side of those filthy roads with the most distasteful frown on their faces. If she had the choice she would rather ride a motorcycle whenever it was her time to patrol again, but the higher-ups decisively ordered her to keep walking. To keep her in shape. Because it wouldn't do for the Tokyo's Police Force's Ace Detective to look fat or unattractive to the press.

_'Bunch of idiots all of them'_ so she told herself.

In the morning she was to take the train to the eastern-side of Tokyo, and in the evening until late at night she would take herself to the western-side of Tokyo. Finally, she would camp at one of those small and cubical police station's break room and sleep in them. If they were taken she hardly would ever refuse the jail cell. If both options were out, she'd take herself to the nearest fast-food chain that was still open and ordered a nice warm meal for herself until morning comes.

And so she ordered the most expensive set meals the restaurant had and billed them to the Chief of the Police Force.

"Your orders will arrive in five minutes or so," the male employee bowed with a nice smile. "Thank you for eating at—"and at that point the franchise name became a blur to her. She had deeply romanticized the life of a detective for so long, and this was the absolute payment to it all. Sighing, she could feel her disappointment coursing through her vein.

When the first victim appeared it sparked her detective sense. An overload of inspiration coursing through her brain as theories upon theories flashed into her eyes. She was still young and naive, fresh out of senior high. Alongside school she would be taken into cases after cases of difficult to solve mysteries, sometimes blending in with her own school activities. She enjoyed those halcyon days and held the memories tightly inside her heart

But the more she was involved with this stupid case, the more bitter she thought of herself. The luster of her younger years swallowing her thoughts in a desperate need to keep herself sane as she tackled another day on this boring attraction her superiors called the S-24 Incident.

"Excuse me," said the same male employer from before. "Here's your meal sets. Be sure to eat it when it's at the most delicious: Hot. Thank you for ordering from—"and at that moment she took her late-night snack/early-morning breakfast and walked with the tray of food to the nearest open seat beside a ten meters height view of Tokyo's nightlife.

All of those tiny dots moving among the blinding neon-lights were the lives she were entrusted to protect.

But those burden on her shoulders were never meant to be taken by just one woman.

* * *

"So?" Aya sipped her green tea. "What's this called again?" When the esteemed ace detective began to narrate as she stroked the neck of the cute wolf-doggo it just took her off guard and began listening with both her ears recording and her brain memorizing. Just in case, she pulled out a recorded from her bag and pressed the big red button.

"An origin story," replied the shrine maiden. "Are you a book person or a movie person, Aya?"

"Well, I do enjoy books more than movies any day of the week. But I do feel that movies are going to become the future of storytelling one day."

"That opinion I can agree with," the shrine maiden couldn't help but laugh. "A cultured woman that leaned on both, huh? Pretty rare if I had to say so myself." Something or other began to appear in her mind, and her lips were pursing for the answer. "But what do you think about the space opera genre? An adventure that happened in the depths of a place very far away?"

"Like Star Trek?"

"Close," Reimu laughed. "But I was talking about Star Wars."

Thinking about it for a moment, her mind boggled for what the ace detective was going with this conversation. And then she gasped, slowly holding her forehead in realization. "Please, continue with your flashback. I'd love to hear more about it."

"I'm glad that we're on the same page now."

* * *

It was a little bit after the start of November that the ace detective found her new lead. She unearthed a new angle that those of her peers would laugh at her for, right after watching the live broadcast from Gunter Schabowski. It was either a drive of desperation or an inkling of insanity, but whatever it was she had found a new lead.

It was Vampires.

All her life she was a more methodical and rational person, but remembering her heritage as the successor of the Hakurei Shrine gave her a new perspective. It wasn't the right choice to take by anyone's standard, at least not anyone who was currently in the police force, but for her it felt right. Call it an intuition, a gut feeling.

From the mythology of such creature alone she scrounged up any piece of info she could. From the books detailing of such beings classified as vampire-like in nature or physiology to the origin of such creatures and how a belief for a creature known as a vampire could spread. It was then that the detective became familiar with the name Tepes, with the Holy Crusade, and with urban legends of vampire sightings in modern times.

Comparing the excellences and weaknesses of such creature made her belief that if a vampire would come to Japanese soils, they would have three reasons: One was to become known as a God that would be reveled or at the very least deified in the olden days. Two was expanding their territory to a fairly desolate place due to various circumstances, be it territorial disputes or from being hunted down to their last ranks in their mainland. Three was to secure a comfortable lifestyle away from public eyes, or at least as low-key as she could conceal her presence.

Afterward, with the basis of Vampire attacks, her investigation became a lot smoother. This aggressor attacked at the start of September, and her pattern remain largely unchanged until the end of October. Usually it was a haphazard attack that left a lot of mistakes and errors, such as the particular places that the victims were assaulted in or the apparent sightings of mysterious figures from passing onlookers and even victims that seemed to be onlookers that found her at the worst timing imaginable. But after the twentieth victims it became clearer that the methods have somewhat changed.

The crime scene became cleaner and more elaborately constructed to leave little mistakes, almost like the culprit suddenly imposed a strict sense of perfectionism. The places were more elaborate selected: Empty houses, abandoned buildings, in the dimmer side of the public park, and recently the riverbank of a bridge's underside. Usually it was either the back alleys that no one rarely walked into or the empty neighborhood streets during the witching hours.

For an obvious crime such as this, knowing the next move from the perpetrator was easier than she thought. The first twentieth time all of the crimes took place somewhere around the center of Tokyo, but the last four had the crimes slowly moving away from it in a spiral-like motion. The first time was the abandoned house near the sea, the second one was at the southeast in an abandoned hospital near the docks, the third one was in a public park to the far south of the first incident, and the fourth one was to southwest nearing the provincial border. In-line with the spiral shape the next one will be to the west of Tokyo, but knowing the exact area would be a little too difficult.

She had no time to lose, so she immediately contacted the superintendent of the police force. Asking him to repay his debt from a long time ago, he couldn't possibly refuse her. So he began mobilizing undercover agents around the specified perimeters. If she found or caught the boogeyman, the police force won. If she didn't find anything, she'll find a way to spin it in their favor one way or the other.

So came the fated date of 13th of November, 1998. In the darkening and cloud-covered sky of Hinohara village was reported a scarlet fog moving eastward by a patrolling cop car. Reporting back to the ace detective, she ordered not to pursue the scarlet mist by themselves and should proceed cautiously while prioritizing blocking off the escape route.

When the fog went inside the garden of a renowned resident, the ace detective and a few of her trusted subordinates inside the building with her.

Inspecting the area, she found herself with an unlit entranceway that branched into five paths that was as dark as the room she was in: In-front of her the stairs to the second floor and a hallway extending up until an intersection before a closed stained-glass door. To her right a room that appeared to be the house's living room, where it's spacious enough to hold a few comfortable looking sofas looking at an expensive television set. To her left the dining room, plates laid on the table in waiting for food that never came and chairs waiting for their masters to sit on.

The investigation team made it sure that they were as noiseless as possible in their inspections. Three of her men were to look at the first floor first and she would take the point on going upstairs. The living room and the dining room were lifeless, and the bathroom behind the stained-glass door was empty. The bathtub was filled with lukewarm water and covered by a wooden roll of oak planks.

Upstairs the way split into two sides, left and right. The right side had two rooms opposite of each other, separated by the bright moonlights seeping in from a large window. There were no signs of opposition from what she could see from far away, but when viewed up-close it was close to disturbing than reassuring. The left door led to a shared bedroom with a wooden bunk-bed and two light-colored desks set side by side. On the right side was another bathroom, but this one was western-tailored complete with shower sets and transparent glass.

Turning around, the opposite hallway led to what appeared to be the master bedroom with no particular entrance to an attic. Assessing the situation so far, this would be the right time to indulge in cautious behaviors. With one partner covering her back, she ordered the two below to stay guard in the first floor and, through her radio, her squad to guard the house's perimeters. Just in case, she ordered the mobilization of the sniper team for assistance.

Opening the master bedroom, she found the vampire with five other people at one corner of the room. Her red, ruby-like eyes passionately glared at the ace detective. Her pale and pure skin could be seen as something horrifically exotic, though she didn't know what to say about it. She was small-statured, looking like what appeared to be a small pre-pubescent little girl. Her baby blue hair highlighted her presence in the darkened room, more than the white and pink gothic lolita dress she was wearing presently. Knowingly, she grinned. Almost as if she made sure to show her canines.

"Took you long enough, detective."

She was speaking softly, as if the vampire hadn't done a single sin in God's green earth.

* * *

"And what happened after that?" Aya's tone was that of a curious child, seeking answer for a philosophical riddle. "Did you kill the vampire?"

"Well, that's not for me to say," the girl sipped the last of her tea. "But I can take you to someone who can tell you what happen. Are you finished with that tea?" Reimu pointed at the empty cup of tea on the table. Shaking her head, Aya picked the cup and handed it to Reimu. "Thanks. Pack your bags and wait patiently here with Aunn."

As if answering to her rolecall, the wolfdog barked.

The sliding door was uncouthly slid open with the Shrine Maidne's feet, and then closed with the same act reversed. Making sure that the girl had left for the kitchen, she went for the picture again. Taking out the photo from its frame, she laid it onto the floor and took a picture with her camera. She would ask for a copy from Reimu herself, but that would cost her too much time. After checking her surroundings, she slid the picture back into the frame and placed it where it belonged.

Then she looked at Aunn with one finger over her lips: "Keep this a secret, okay?"

And Aunn barked ecstatically.

"Good girl!" Aya said as she ruffled the furs on Komano's back.

* * *

Walking down the stone-steps to ground level, she found Reimu waiting with a long-distance cruiser bike. Aya was tossed a passenger helmet from the Shrine Maiden, who found herself questioning the questioning look. "What? Never seen a girl ride a cruiser bike before?" The bike was turned on, warming up its engine as it exuded smokes from its muffler.

Indeed, the image of a delicate-looking girl riding something macho had never came across her mind before. "No, it's just that you don't seem like a girl who enjoys riding a cruiser bike." Seeing her with a leather biker jacket, though still retaining her red scarf, was very refreshing. "That's from the latest line of cruiser bike right? I'm not that fond of bikes myself, but I know a little bit about them."

"It's based on the Viragos. 649 cc in the engine's belt with a steel frame for a sleek and aerodynamic body. I've tuned its suspensions, transmissions, and brakes with care so that they won't decay in a fast pace." Reimu placed her hand on the seat, and tapped it to draw Aya's attention. "Don't worry, I've made sure that you'll be comfortable riding this baby."

"Right."

"You know how to ride the backseat though, right?"

"For this type of bike," Aya walked toward the bike, climbed on the backseat footrest, before hopping into the backseat. As she gracefully sat on the passenger's seat, the bike shook without a sound. "There we go. Scared me there for a bit," the raven-haired girl laughed a bit.

"Nice going," Reimu said as she climbed into the driver's seat confidently. "Now I'm going to warn you, we're going to get a bit fast here."

"I'm used to being fast," said the reporter as she clipped the helmet's belt together. "Where to?"

"Some third-rate ramen stand."

Kicking back the kickstand, Reimu lightly revved the bike. Still in neutral, the bike moving in an energetic shake tingled Aya's behind and sending chills up her spine. The girl found herself instinctively roping her arms Reimu by the waist.

With a smile on her face, she placed her left feet on the footrest and shifted the gear to one. With a distinctive machine-like clacking sound, Reimu slowly built up a speed until she had passed an intersection leading to the main road. Joining the sparsely filled lines heading south, she shifted the gears again and dared herself to go faster.

The trails of dust began to gather behind her as she passed the 80 kilometers easily. As she passed by various cars and bikes, Reimu let out a scream of excitement. In the back, however, Aya wasn't sure how to take in the rapidly-changing scenery and center of gravity's quick-turns.

* * *

17:20

* * *

The two safely arrived at the so-called third-rate ramen store, which was very much in name only. It was a center store surrounded by parking areas, like any other renowned family restaurant chain stores she had visited all over the region. It felt like looking at a three-star restaurant in all honesty, what with the building being finely decorated and cleaned. The entrance to it was glamourous, though indubitably Japanese-styled. She could believe that this restaurant was located behind a famous enterprise skyscraper, effectively making this place a back alley in a metropolitan area.

"Don't worry about payment. It's been paid by a kind friend."

"Okay?" Aya cocked her head, lots of question on her mind. "Am I interviewing this friend of yours here?"

"That's right. If that wildflower trusts you that much I'm obligated to pull all of my stops," Reimu said as the two walked in from the front door. They heard a female greeting from the kitchen at the other side of the counter. "If you run into trouble don't be afraid to call for my help, alright? I'll be on the first floor." Reimu said as she sat on the counter-side table four seats away from a big television that was bolted into the wall. Not missing a beat, the shrine maiden pointed toward the stairs leading to the second floor. "She's upstairs in the V.I.P. room. Want someone to escort you there?"

Aya nodded furiously.

"Hey, someone take my friend here to the V.I.P. room," and as soon as Reimu finished asking, a female employee rushed out of the staff room to greet them. "Oh, it's you Tia. You're looking good in that outfit. Nice touch on the apron too."

The girl she was referring to was in a work kimono, with its sleeves tied to a strap roped around her shoulders. She was wearing a cooking cap and an apron was slung around her waist. She was still in her teenage years, and her complexion was healthy. Her soft pink hair caught the attention of Aya, wondering if she had her hair dyed as a fashion statement. She wouldn't know about fashion, and she should ask Hatate about it later. Overall, the girl called "Tia" was adorable.

"Nice to see you too, Reimu. It's rare for you to bring friends here."

"Don't get friendly with me," smirked the shrine maiden. "Just take her to the V.I.P. room."

"Aye-aye, owner!"

"Don't call me owner. I only own forty-percent of this place's shares."

Tia laughed as she grabbed Aya by her sleeve and led her to the stairs. Aya looked back at the girl who owned the majority shares of this restaurant and found her switching on the television with a remote that another server gave her almost as if it was the most-natural thing to do. Though it was almost unintelligible, she heard a very famous tune from a galaxy far, far away from the ground floor.

She was now before the lavishly-decorated front door of the V.I.P. room. Tia the server bowed her head as she left her there before returning to her post below.

Aya turned toward the door and knocked it first.

"Come in. Door's fine."

Opening the door, she found herself to the presence of two blonde-haired female adults in dashing black suits and a green-haired woman in thick and white coat greeting her. The blondes, one having a long blonde hair and the other short, sat at the north and west side of the room respectively. The green-haired girl sat comfortably on the east side of the room. They were sitting on a comfortable sofa with a big table for eating in the center of the room that had various Japanese dishes lined up on top of it. One of the blonde-haired girls gestured Aya to take the seat opposite of her, the south seat, and she did as she was asked.

"Reimu had told us about you, Miss Aya Shameimaru," the long-haired blonde pulled out a card from inside her adorned vest and handed it to the journalist. "The name's Marisa Kirisame, and I'll tell you everything I remember about S-24."

* * *

_"The notion of fate isn't always straightforward. It has its own twists and turns, complexities, and depths of perspectives that no single entity can grasp on their own understandings. The only way to comprehend its interpretations are to trust your instinct and dive towards the oppressing truths from differing point of views."_

_-Hearn_


	5. Red Cross (III)

The air inside the V.I.P. room became increasingly oppressing as each seconds passed. To stave off the pressure, it took Aya's whole discipline and mental fortitude as a seasoned news reporter. She need to keep her chin up and soldier on, making it her topmost priority to gain the information she desired. This was her chance to gain a scoop as big as 1994, and she would be the world's number one idiot if she were to let this chance slip.

Before the relaxed reporter were three girls. Sitting opposite of her was Marisa Kirisame, a girl she had known for around five seconds at most. She wore a black suit and black pants, but one thing strike her nerves the most: The emblematic image of seven-colored flowers engraved onto the suit's collar, vest, and sleeves. Aya had her suspicion before, but clarifications wouldn't hurt anyone.

"Ms. Kirisame," started the reporter. "Are you perhaps one of the leading members of Sevens?"

Immediately Marisa raised her hand, making a wall between the short-haired blonde and the reporter. It was only for a split second, but the eyes of that girl was immediately full of horrible intentions. Even when the situation soured, Marisa's smug smile never escaped her youthful and energized face.

"Relax, Ms. Reporter wouldn't dare to out a whistleblower, right?"

"Your secrets are save with me," though it was tempting to divulge the connection between S-24 incident with the infamous Sevens, it wouldn't be wise to make enemies with them. "I swear it on my life."

Marisa became quiet, and with her silence came Aya's nervousness. As if replying to Aya's promise, Marisa lowered her arm as she kept the same smile she had toward Alice. "Ms. Shameimaru," softly called the woman in black. Her right hand pressing against her cheek, Marisa felt herself more relaxed than ever. "Do you know soccer?"

"Who doesn't know soccer in Japan?"

"Fair point. Then I'll ask you this: What do you think soccer is?" The long-haired blonde eyed the split-second reaction of the reporter, before she reclined on her sofa and exhaled a big long sigh. "I know just from looking at your type, you must think soccer is a sport right? It's just twenty-two people kicking balls and shooting balls inside the nets, right?"

Aya couldn't deny that. She only knew and never understood. She tried emulating the sense of understanding the sport before, but it was just not for her.

"So let me tell you what soccer is," Marisa hunched forward, both elbows on each of her knee. Her eyes were fiery, but sullen. "Soccer is a battle. A battle of willpower, a battle of strength, a battle of wits," there was no hesitation in her tone. She was completely serious. "Soccer is all of those, but the most important battle of them all is the battle of beliefs."

"Beliefs?"

"You don't get it do you? A team consists a minimal of eleven people. That's eleven people who believed in something fighting against another set of eleven people. Those whose beliefs are stronger win over the weak. That's the most important thing in soccer."

Aya raised her eyebrows as the short-haired blonde agreed with nods of approval. "Alright, but what does that have anything to do with the S-24 incident?"

"I used to be the captain of an All-Female soccer team. Our team was supposed to be facing off the pinnacle of glory in this small eastern islands one step at a time. That year the championship was moved several months back due to political discourses. We rose through the preliminaries and climbed through the national championship with as much intensity as the sun." Marisa hung her head, smiling in vivid nostalgia. "And then a day before the match my teammates were attacked." Marisa's expression soured as she smiled wryly. Eyes looking at the reporter's. "Three people in total: The goalkeeper, the left-wing forward, and the leader of the defenders. The reserves are first-years that were very much inexperienced.

"The day of the final bout was something I'll remember fondly as a massacre. The worst part of Soccer reared its head as holes upon holes were created. My team at that time was like Swiss cheese. For a month, every morning I looked at my bathroom's mirror and all I see is my hair looking like one. It was already the third year of my highschool days, you know? Kind of hard to accept this fact alone. It's one thing to have your beliefs defeated by a strong opponent, but we weren't given the chance to clash with our full strength. It's so frustrating."

Aya jotted down Marisa's testimony the first chance she got, and the interviewed patiently waited for her to finish before continuing.

"I'm not that much of thinker, so I impulsively act on my own. In my school there was this girl I knew. Brown-haired, gentle eyes, and also an undercover detective dealing with cases of narcotics and teenage prostitutions. Well, the last one was just a rumor but when I confronted her about it she didn't even try to deny she had been working for the police force since middle school."

"So the two of you were friends?"

"Well, not exactly. I knew her but never get to know her better until the last leg of highschool. I was too busy with my soccer career. Thinking about it, seemed like our meeting was predestined even if I were to never interact with her."

"How so?"

"That doesn't have anything to do with the topic at hand," that was the first time Aya heard of the short-haired blonde's voice. It was so sudden that Aya instinctively turn toward her. Her fair skin was a little pale, like that of a Russian's. Even when sitting, Aya knew this girl would be taller than her if they were to ever compare heights. Her hands were what made her interests peak, however, as they were stationed on her lap. Aya knew those hands were trained to be quick, like her hands. Sleek and neatly cared, along with thin fingers that could precisely reach into small gaps or places. "Ms. Tengu, I implore you to stay on-topic."

"Now, now, it is fine isn't it Alice?" Marisa laughed, grinning as she placed her hand on the short-haired blonde's shoulder. "She was just curious. That's precisely why she's a fine reporter, isn't that right Nitori?"

When Nitori turned to Marisa, her face was full of worry for her. "I dunno about that chief. Seems like she has a lotta death wish to me."

"Oh come on, not you too, Nitori!" Marisa tried to justify the safety of Aya, though the reporter herself felt an inkling of what was going on right now. "Why are you two suddenly so savage? I know we just got home from a dangerous job but at least keep it civil you guys!"

What job they were doing or what kind of work their occupation do would probably be a breach of their privacy. She wouldn't dare cross the three of them given that their existence were a danger to her. But, something that the girl named Alice had said a few minutes ago just couldn't escape her mind. That was the second time she was called Ms. Tengu from someone that weren't the kids she met in the Chiryu Park.

'_Screw it'_ figured the reporter. "I had my suspicion before, but are you guys a fan of The Mighty Tengu?"

The three before them became quiet at the mention of the comic book title. After a while, Alice turned toward Aya and said, "Why should you care?"

No answer from Aya. It seemed she need to research this comic book after all of this was over. Maybe if she's lucky she won't need to.

"Anyway," Marisa coughed to gain everyone's attentions. Clearing her throat, she made sure that her voice didn't experience a tonal shift or becoming cracked as she spoke. "When I found out that Reimu was an ace detective, I quietly approached her. I knew her full schedule from a trusted informant and decided to approach her," Marisa shrugged. "But I got rejected. She said that "A child like you shouldn't be playing detectives." Can you believe her? We're the same age for heaven's sake. But that's only the start of my story."

* * *

1989

* * *

Marisa Kirisame wasn't a soccer player by will. It was by choice. One painful and numbing choice.

Inside a colorful room full of neon light the teenage girl walked toward its center. She looked left and right, noticing that this den of scums hadn't changed in the least bit. To her right strippers dancing atop their shared stage in the skimpiest outfit her father could make them wear. On the left a bar counter with her father's favorite liquor placed on the topmost shelf. On the leftmost edge of her vision she saw the bartender bowed with vigorous politeness at her, and it completely disgust her.

Many customers were staring at her, unknowingly asking who the young girl strolling in a nightclub was. As Marisa entered the staff room she heard someone answering with fear in their tone. It was in a tone of a friend reminding a friend not to make harsh decisions.

"Don't you know here? She's the boss' daughter."

It's not like she want to flaunt it everywhere. But her father's nefarious tendencies just couldn't be regulated, especially in his home turf. The feeling Marisa had as she climbed the steel stairs to the office on the sixth floor was akin to leaving to play in an away game. Her stomach felt like it was filled with butterflies, while being turned upside down at the same time.

"Good evening Young Miss," said the employee walking out of her father's office. "It's nice to see your face again after so long. How's life?"

"So-so. You've watched the news, right?"

"My condolences, Young Miss." Marisa truthfully didn't know who this worker was, but her offering her sympathy was something she wanted to hear more. Maybe she hadn't had yet settled out of her five stages of grieves, or it was the notion of sympathy that she hardly ever got in her life tugging to her frozen heartstrings. Either way, she figured that this will probably be the only time she will ever experience it this year. Might as well savor it while it lasted. "Anyway, your father have been waiting for you."

"I know."

Opening the door behind the employee, she found herself in a familiar room. She had been coming here almost constantly when she was younger. It was not until the tail-end of middle school that she found herself unable to face this room. Whenever she looked at the shelves filled with decorated books which titles didn't mean anything, whenever she looked at the plaque and hanging scrolls consisting of old Japanese proverbs, and especially whenever she looked at the constantly empty large wooden desk devoid of work that directly faced the door.

"Hey Dad."

Sitting on the wool recliner behind the desk was a man in his early forties. Scruffy, suited in white duster and white long pants. He was reading through each pages of _Fruits_ with great moderations, making it strictly business. Noticing her daughter now standing before his desk, Kiryuu Kirisame set the magazine on the table and stood up. "My daughter, Marisa. It's been far too long a time."

There were warmth in his tone, but it too was held with moderations.

"Yeah."

The room soon fell into an awkward silence.

Coughing, Kiryuu made sure to have Marisa's full attention. "Well, let's get to the point then. I assume you're here to bargain with me?"

As sharp as ever, her old man was. But that was why Marisa couldn't let herself hate her father. "Yeah. Considering the circumstances, don't you agree that I at least would be given some kind of compromise? I lost not because of my skill afterall."

Sighing, Kiryuu couldn't help but to agree. If he were to forcefully pull, he feared his only bond with his daughter would be severed. As a man that had lived for far too long donning the chivalrous ways, he understood how hard-working his daughter for the last three years. Though it pains his heart that she did it to run away from her responsibilities.

"Once," her father began. "I will only tolerate your failure once, my daughter." From the reflection in the glass window, Kiryuu could see a transparent figure of her daughter pumping her fist in the air. "But, I want you to do something different. Something unrelated to Soccer." Pulling a set developed photos from his desk drawer, the content of the pictures were just absurd for Marisa. "Last night we caught one of our family member assaulted by a creature. These pictures were still frames recorded in this very building's backdoor security camera. Thank goodness the cops weren't involved with this case." Kiryuu then turned toward his daughter, and firmly planted his glare into her. "Without involving the cops, I want you to investigate this crime and report back to me once you find a lead."

Marisa picked the photo, revealing images of a girl in Lolita fashion biting the side of a member holding a gun. In the next image the Lolita being shot with the gun the man was holding. The next one containing of the spaced out victim falling on the ground. And finally, the last one consisting of the girl smirking toward the camera.

"Where's this from?"

"Our trading warehouse in Ota," Kiryuu said. "I assure you it's used for legal trading. Poor guy's here at the moment. I had an on-call doctor visiting, but even he's not helping that much."

Like Marisa would believe anything he said with how selective his response sounded. But that's not what's on her mind at the present.

"This girl," Marisa paused, absorbing as many information from the images before continuing. "She's mocking us, isn't she?"

"Makes you want to smash her face in, huh?"

"I'll do it," Marisa grinned. Half angered, half excited. "I'll do this job. You kept my tools in good conditions, right Dad?"

Kiryuu couldn't help but smile. To make his daughter take the bait, he felt the need to pat himself in the back. Seeing his daughter very agreeable this evening was enough to make this day a good and productive one. "I'm sure Nitori never skipped on your weapon maintenances."

"Thanks Dad," Marisa giggled as she turned toward the door. Before she went outside, she stopped and looked at the figure of an excited father whose fists were pumped into the air. Noticing his daughter's smug smile, Kiryuu quickly assumed a more dignified posture. "Oh and how about we go visit Mom sometimes? I'm sure she's pretty lonely."

Kiryuu thought of it for a few moments, before nodding in agreement. "That would be nice."

Marisa exited the room and closed the door. If she wasn't wrong, Nitori would be stationed in the fourth floor of this building. Skipping on the staff elevators, she headed for the same staircase she ascended before.

* * *

"Your Dad's that infamous Kiryuu Kirisame!? The Eastern Red Dragon himself?" Aya looked at the card that Marisa gave her. It listed Marisa's full name and occupation: Negotiator for Hire. Her current job didn't matter, but her family name was something she couldn't connect with until just now. "Of course. If you're one of the top-members of Sevens, it's only logical you're his daughter! You don't know how much he's idolized in the press industry. The untouchable troublemaker who always run wildly as when he patrols the streets in Roppongi! How's the boss himself these days?"

To that Alice couldn't help but snicker. Nitori just shook her head and smiled knowingly. Following up, Marisa answered while grinning mischievously. "He's doing just fine. That old fart won't kick the bucket anytime soon."

"Anyway, continuing from this would be your testimony next right?" Aya looked to Nitori, who ignored her with a round of whistling. "I guess not."

"Well, I can at least tell you what I brought from the armory that day. I don't want you to write unnecessary details, even if Reimu vouched for you."

"I promised to write only the necessary information before though."

"I'm not as trusting as my best friend," Marisa calmly said. "No offense."

"None taken."

"Alright then," Marisa continued. "Where was I?"

* * *

After getting her preferred tools for battle and a few necessary additions, Marisa checked on the still unconscious, and grinning creepily, family member. At the time she didn't know his name, but she remembered that he came from somewhere near Sapporo. He was a rumor-loving nut, easily getting swept by the newest and traction-gaining stories. Even Nitori was fond of the guy.

As he recalled, he talked about various stories that didn't make any sense. Especially if anyone would mull over it for five or longer seconds. Or she thought, before seeing a picture of a vampire doing her nightly crime. Now his ramblings about government conspiracies, the fake moon landing, and lizard people seemed fairly realistic. Maybe it was fitting for him to be attacked by one of those things.

Finished with checking the victim, she checked the clock.

If the schedule was right, the ace detective would be eating somewhere in Minato. Last time she checked, her night life became a hectic yet boring time wasting experience. Poor girl drew the short ends of the lottery it seems. Her Dad explicitly told her to have no police involvements, but she knew how to abuse a loophole as good as her family's lawyer.

The trip to the fast-food joint was fairly quick. A twenty minutes trip by foot going south. For some reason, she wondered why a detective like her wouldn't go to a finer establishment. A standing bar for once, or a fancy restaurant on daily occasions, she had enough cash to burn if she was appointed as the head honcho of Tokyo's Metropolitan Police's Investigation Division.

Entering the clean, but cheap-looking fast food establishment she found her target quite easily. Wearing a thick and black leather coat with blue jeans under a fashionable red-plaid skirt. A pair of brown heelless boots covered her resting feet as they tapped to the slow pop-esque rhythm. She was earnestly listening to the hit-song coming from the speakers, but upon closer look she was eating while mindlessly droning onto the atmosphere. She was sitting on a table for two at the corner of the store. Just the right place to start a meaningful negotiations.

As soon as Marisa sat across the table, Reimu snapped coldly. "Seat's taken. Go away."

"I'm paying your dinner tonight."

"Then the most expensive set in the menu times two," steadfastly replied the detective. "And make it quick."

"One's for me, right? That's so sweet of you."

"Go get your own."

"I'm paying for those, you know?" Marisa grumbled. She shook her head in annoyance as she headed for the cashier, where an employee greeted her with a big smile. "Three of the most expensive sets you got, honey. How much?"

The employee smiled before taking note of her order and jotted it down the cashier buttons. A few tapping on the keyboard later she was given her bill. The totaled numbers were close to a quarter of her monthly allowance, and that scared her. "Please wait a few minutes, dear customer," said the cashier before asking for the next customer.

Marisa waited for five minutes before taking the orders on a huge tray back to her shared table. Placing it on the table, she sat down and expected something to change in Reimu's behavior. She was the same as she remembered her to be atleast. "Alright, let's talk business."

"Sure," said Reimu as she gnawed on her fries. "How about a day in Tokyo central's detention center?"

"Quit it with your cop-like quips," Marisa pulled out a clear envelope filled with four photos inside it. "I have your info on the perpetrator right here. You might know about the rumor of the Metropolitan Vampire case, right? Your department would classify it as the S-24 case."

"And why should I believe you?"

"I have a clear evidence to support my evidence. A set of still photos taken from our security camera," Marisa then added. "If you're thinking of it being altered or edited, no. These guys aren't smart enough to play with computer software."

"...I'm listening."

"I'll give you these deliciously incriminating evidence, if," Marisa stressed the last part. "And only if, we team up to take down the culprit together. My leads and your detective intuitions. Together we'll be able to solve this case in a flash I guarantee." As she said that she unwrapped what appeared to be a large burger containing both square-shaped fried fish meat and grilled beef meat. In-between the meats and the buns were a slew of things like strips of bacons, slices of tomatoes, and sheets of lettuces. The sauce inside it was something close to mayonnaise, but her nose picked up the smell of mushrooms instead. "What is with this burger?"

"It's the most expensive burger for a reason. Look, if you want to know greatness just eat the burg as is."

Marisa gazed skeptically at Reimu, before biting a huge bite into the half-pounder with everything in it. Chewing slowly, she found its content slowly fitting her palate. While her mouth was chewing food, her fingers aimed for the fries. As they entered her mouth, her tongue only felt bliss. It was a mixture of flavor that shouldn't work, what with how gross it looked, but it certainly worked.

"Good, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but the presentation's super horrid."

"All fast foods are like that, most cheap foods too for good reasons. They all look disgusting to hide their delicious sides, or looking delicious to hide their hideous sides." Reimu said as her face cringed with disgust. "But in the end it's still fast food. They are unhealthy for the bodies. They are layered in multi-flavors of deceit. Sometimes they are excessive fats clogging up your healthy life, sometimes they are unknown diseases that no one knows the cure of, sometimes they are triggers for an illness lying dormant inside your body that brings people untimely deaths."

"What's your point?"

"Have you ever questioned a case before, Kirisame?" Reimu asked before she ate her mountain-sized burger, chewing it thirty times, and downing it with soda. "Not on a personal level, but mostly from an objective standpoints. Many people are involved in one particular cases, with their own goals in mind. What's the most important is not those people's goals, but what you think is the best goal in mind. Daughter of Red Dragon, what do you want to gain from this incident?"

"I'm only here for my own self-satisfactions."

"And does that reason not having anything to do with familial disputes?"

Marisa turned quiet, eyes firmly glaring at Reimu's.

"You're still green, Mata Hari. It seems the color of the sun doesn't fit you quite yet." Finishing one of her burger, she took a long and noisy slurp of soda with her straw. The girl couldn't care less about the blonde's glare, she was trained not to react to provocations, especially the easy ones. "In a few years, maybe you'll turn into a blue, and someday you'll become the red. If you're good enough maybe someday I'll have the chance to investigate you."

Marisa was not amused. She felt like being toyed with. Reimu, however, was done with the stick, maybe she'll try the carrot next.

"Now, I won't mind cooperating with you," and as fast as the light Marisa's frown turned upside-down. "You're impulsive, brash, and honestly a pain in the neck. But I don't dislike how you looked for me first instead of carrying your own investigations. You're smart, cunning if you want me to put it nicely. Last time I refused your assistance, but now I think it's better to have the yakuzas owe me one. No, _you_ owing me one."

As she said that, Reimu cleanly ate the last meal set in a good pace.

"So we're partners now?"

"No. A client."

Marisa wanted to ask if it was okay for a state-assigned detective to work like a private investigator, but she figured like her the detective was riding the coattails of loopholes herself. Though she didn't fully accept Reimu's take on their situation, if that would mean a cooperation of any kind between them she might as well agree.

"Then how should we seal the deal?" Marisa asked, trying to find themselves a pen and paper. "Or should we do a mutual contract signing? Does that work for you?"

"I don't do amateur contracts," Reimu said as she removed the glove covering her right hand. After pocketing the glove, she placed her open palm above the table. "We'll do it old-style. Does shaking hands work for you, Marisa Kirisame?"

"I have several conditions."

"Name it."

"Firstly, no cops." Marisa stated. "I don't want any cops sniffing on the yakuza after this."

"How about if we need the cops to capture the perp?"

"I'll allow it." Marisa knew that the bigger her deck of plays are the better the chance she got. Though she was asked not to have the cops involved, it would be fine as long as they don't sniff when the Yakuza's were involved. "Secondly, I want this to be a mutual exchange. I'll provide you this information in exchange for your cooperation and sleuthing skills." Marisa placed her hand on her chest. Her hand held on something through her bomber jacket. "Finally, if you allow me to, let me take my revenge."

"I'll keep them in mind," Reimu sighed. "I'm willing to compromise on those first two, but unless it's something unavoidable I'll approve of your, dare I say, rough methods for that final condition?"

"Rough methods?" Marisa snorted. "In a galaxy far, far away, my method would be called uncivilized." Marisa looked at the outstretched hand as she laughed, eyeing how thin and sleek its five fingers were. She placed her right facing the palm and clasped Reimu's hand. The ace detective replied by holding the blonde's hand firmly, and shaking it. "You have yourself a deal, Hakurei."

"My colleagues and clients always called me Reimu. So you don't need to be so formal," Reimu said.

"Then you can call me Marisa." Marisa then gave the entire still-shots of a little girl in a gothic lolita dress. Reimu could see that the pictures themselves weren't altered in content. As she looked at the girl biting the man's neck, she instinctively placed her hand on the same part where the man was bitten. Looking back at Marisa, the blonde smiled wryly.

"Now that you've seen the picture," Marisa pulled out the map of Tokyo province. Reimu noted the red crosses that was drawn all over the map, all of them noting all twenty-four people, twenty-five including the cross in Ota presumably where the new victim was attacked, that had been the girl's victim. "I want you to look at this map."

"These are the attacks' locations, aren't it?"

"That's right. Starting from Shinjuku, then Shibuya, then Suginami, Nerima, Kita, Taito, Chuo, Minato, Meguro, and Setagaya," Reimu noted that all of them started in wards of Eastern Tokyo. "Komae, Chofu, Fuchu, Kunitachi, Tachikawa, and then Musashimurayama." This time it's the wards of Western Tokyo. "Afterward, it goes to Mizuho, and then Adachi, Katsushika, Edogawa, Koto, Shinagawa, Ota, and then Machida."

"Wait," Reimu stopped Marisa. "Did you say Ota first before Hachida?"

"That's right. Why'd you ask?"

"Give me a pen," Reimu ordered to Marisa raising an eyebrow. "Hurry up!"

"Alright, alright, wait a minute," Marisa quickly pulled out a pen and handed it to the ace detective. "Here you go."

"Thank you," Reimu started by popping the pen and stuck the ballpoint tip in Shinjuku. Afterward she created something akin to a typhoon before Marisa's wide-opened eyes. "If what I'm seeing here is right, then the next attack will be located... over here!" When the pen stopped tracing the curved line, it stopped in Hinohara ward. "Now we finally got a good lead."

"I don't know, Reimu. Why not Hachioji?"

"Going by the Musashimurayama example, the perp attacked in Mizuho before looping back into Adachi. Up north in Saitama I haven't heard anything from said prefectural police force. After her return in Adachi she vanished after Shinagawa and suddenly appearing in Machidai. And that's precisely what made me hit a dead wall in my investigation." Grinning from ear to ear, Reimu felt a rush of adrenaline mixed into her brain. She was excited with finally knowing how to solve the case. "This girl," Reimu pointed at the vampire in the pictures. "Is purposefully attacking in Tokyo so only the Tokyo's Police Force are involved. Harlot's picking a fight with the best investigation team in the whole country. Color me impressed."

"So... what?" Marisa questioned again.

"Think about it, Marisa. This girl is going past Saitama and moving back to Tokyo. Twice. After vanishing in Shinagawa I thought she would appear in Ota, but no such reports were made. That means after Machida, going by this spiral, she will be in Hinohara instead of Hachioji." Reimu's smile then turned a good 180 as she realized something. "Hold on, if you Yakuzas didn't hide the evidence I could've—"

"Now, now Reimu. Let bygones be bygones, okay?"

"...You guys better apologize to the victim in Machida once she woke up."

"I will," Marisa nodded. "And I'll make sure everyone's coming with me."

* * *

September 13th, 1989

* * *

Afterward, Reimu started looking into Vampires. From their lore to their strengths, but mostly their weaknesses. From crosses to garlics, it was Marisa's job to acquire them. And finally after making sure that the police force were readily stationed in Hinohara Village, the two got a definite alert. They only have a few days to prepare, but they thought the preparations were enough to take the Vampire down. Once the scarlet mist was sighted in Hinohara village, they both rushed into the scene.

The investigation and control team consisted of Reimu's handpicked police officers and a few Yakuza members disguised as the snipers team. They were in-turn fully endorsed by Marisa Kirisame. Some were known mercenaries that the police force were currently hunting, but since this is a hurried and rushed job dealing with the occults the police force were glad with all the help they can get.

And now, inside a room with five hostages, the vampire greeted them.

"Took you long enough, detective."

Marisa felt a massive amount of distraught as she came face to face with the vampire, and immediately pulled out a gun from the holster. It was not the standard-issue magnum gun, but a customized Colt Python. As she found herself with the presence of the vampire herself, Marisa quickly cocked the hammer and blasted a bullet straight to the vampire's head. It was quick, precise, and without hesitations. As soon as the vampire greeted the two, so soon she fell to the floor.

"You idiot!" Without missing a beat, Reimu pulled her radio with exasperation. "This is A-Type, I repeat this is A-Type, over."

"A-Type, you're confirmed. What's your status? Over."

"Thank you for the confirmation, radio team. The noise you heard just now was a warning fire. I can confirm that no one is hurt. I repeat, no one is hurt." At this point, Reimu wanted to click her tongue, but she refrained from doing that. "Stay at your post and resume normal activities. Retrieval team, we need hostage extractions. Do not enter the house until further order, over."

"This is the retrieval team, we got you copied, over."

Reimu wasn't pleased with Marisa's split-second decision, but she surely had her reason to act foolishly. She turned to Marisa, who was sweating bullets. Considering this was her first time meeting something so otherworldly, Reimu thought she did a good job. Well, even if she went back home with only a corpse of a vampire, she would be content.

Tapping Marisa's shoulder and snapping her out of delirium, she quickly assured that everything's okay. "Don't aim that gun at me, put it down, we're in the clear." Afterward, Marisa safely placed the magnum in her holster and took a deep breath. Afterward, Reimu asked her to look after the hostages and see if they could be safely escorted out of the premise. "You remember how to do it, right?"

"Y-Yeah," Marisa stammered. "In extreme scenarios like this I have to—"

"Escort the hostages outside of the room, radio in for retrieval team, and after that confirm that they are safe and healthy."

"Escort, radio, confirm," Marisa nodded. "Got it."

The hostages were five individuals of varying age-gaps. There are two adults, and three children. They seemed to be a family of five. The father was somewhere in his mid-forties, but the mother was somewhere in the late-thirties. They were resting prior to this attack, so they were understandably in their sleep robes. The children all wear pajamas, except one. The boys looking like grade-schoolers were still in their rocket ship patterned pajamas, while the silver-haired mature-looking middle-schooler was in her casual wear. Marisa noted the stylish look pretty quickly as she walked the five out of the room and immediately pulled up her walker. "This is... B-Type. Hostages are secured. Requesting retrieval. Over."

"Roger that B-Type. We'll be standing by the entrance. Thank you for your cooperation, over."

"Alright you five," Marisa called the hostages. All of them were relatively calm, except the silver-haired girl. "Let's go downstairs." Marisa and the hostages went cautiously into the middle of the hallway, and stopped just before the stairs. "Now, I want you adults to go downstairs first, but only after the men in the uniform have—oh speak of the devils."

Three members of the retrieval team, all dressed in full gear, went inside from the front door. One of the team members waved at them, signaling for retrievals.

Four of them nodded, with the silver-haired girl following suit expressionlessly. The adults were instructed to walk downstairs first, the two of them looking at the kids still upstairs. After the parents were safely sent downstairs, it's the kids' turn. Firstly the boys because they're younger, afterward the silver-hair. Before the two went down the stairs, one of the boys tugged Marisa's uniform, and it prompted her to get on their eye levels. They were still afraid it seems, or they were about to say thank you like good little kids would to a brave and admirable policewoman such as her.

So the girl listened in closely to the boy's whisper, and her eyes widened in response.

"That girl's not a part of my family."

Looking at the silver-hair, she produced a set of knives from her skirt pockets and aimed at the retrieval team's head. The retrieval team members didn't realize that their heads were targeted, but Marisa knew from those eyes that they were filled with bloodlust. From a girl no older than twelves give or take no less. Still in her emotionless self, the middle-school looking girl was about to release the knives. This would be the do or die situation Marisa had heard about from her father's chivalrous stories. If she didn't act now, people will be harmed. Questions upon questions bursts through her thinking, but there was only one option she was willing to take.

* * *

"And?" Aya slammed her hands on the table. "What happened?"

Marisa turned to her wristwatch and happily explained: "Well, look at the time. I have to go right now. Can we continue this next time?"

"Next time?" Aya gasped, unable to control her voice. After hearing such information from a prominent member of society, who wouldn't? "What about now? Why can't you tell me what happen now?"

"Look here," Marisa ground her teeth in exasperation as her expression showed regret. "As much as I would like to tell you what happened, I'm quite pressed for time. I would be glad if you could forgive me this time so I can make up for our time next time. How does a week from now sound, Ms. Shameimaru? Or should we come straight to your publishing house and set an interview in the meeting room. Alice, when can we do that?"

"Going by your schedule," the short-haired blonde flicked a few pages from a red, white, and blue notebook. "A week and a three days from now on." Alice turned toward the reporter. "Would that be acceptable for you, Ms. Tengu?"

"No!"

"Well, tough luck, see you next time." The green-haired girl, Nitori, tapped the raven-haired girl on her should as she walked past her. "I'm free anytime though, I'll call you once I found a new source of energy. You'll be the first to get the scoop."

Aya honestly didn't know if she should feel rewarded, or disrespected.

"Oh right, before we forget," Alice turned toward Aya before the exit and pulled something out by balling her right hand into a fist. Something sparkly went into the air and the Russian blonde caught it with the same hand that pulled it out. "We'll be taking this voice recorder." After that she pivoted, and pulled another one out with her left hand. "And this one too. Crafty for you to hide it between your—"

"Stop right there! And don't you dare say it!"

Alice couldn't help but snort. Afterward, her parting expression was that of the most-absolute smugness. "I can't believe you hid it in your p—"

"Alice, quit bothering your elders," Marisa ordered Alice, who turned to her with shame. Marisa then placed her hand together apologetically as she lowered her head to Aya. "Please forgive this girl. She doesn't mean any harm."

And with that the door closed, leaving Aya to scream in an empty room.

* * *

21:35

* * *

"Are you sure you don't want me to take you home?"

Reimu, finished with watching the sequel to the first Star Wars, walked Aya outside the Ramen shop. She was accompanying her as far as the intersection, where she would take the taxi straight to her office. She need to make sense of her report before she forget half the exciting things that were said today.

To Reimu's insistence, Aya sighed. Not only was Reimu outright refusing to talk about the incident not helping, she had the gall to offer a ride home. Aya was feeling bitter, but she felt rightfully justified to do so. She knew that there were confidential information layered into them, but this just left a really awful taste in her mouth. "No thanks, I appreciate it though."

"Sorry about this," Reimu sighed along with Aya. "I'm on a strict order not to divulge anything further about this case. Wouldn't my testimony of acknowledging the existence of vampires be enough for a hit scoop?"

"It would," Aya clicked her tongue. "For a gossip tabloid."

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, Ms. Hakurei."

"Reimu's fine," the ace detective smiled. "We're already friends, aren't we? No need to be so formal."

"Then, Reimu," Aya smiled back at her. "I know that your hands are tied on this, but can't you at least spare me a teeny-tiny bit more details?"

Reimu shook her head. She was worried, extremely worried, that if she were that something bad would happen if she talked more than what she was allowed to talk about. "Do you remember the last time a reporter came to my shrine?"

"Yeah, you've talked about him before." It took Reimu's silence a while to digest, before she instinctively realized what was going on. "Don't tell me—"

Reimu was silent, but she nodded.

"No way."

"I'll ask again," Reimu repeated. "Do you want me to—"

"No," Aya shook her head. "No thanks. No offense, but I think it would be in our best interest if we didn't stick together. You're one of my valuable interviewee." Aya walked toward Reimu and grabbed her hand with two of hers. "Stay safe, alright?"

What could Reimu do at this point but nod. "You too."

As Aya waved back to her friend, Reimu couldn't let go of her from her sight. It continued until she was as far away into the main street and going toward the intersection. Aya was actively searching for a place that was crowded with people, and from there she would catch a cab. The reporter was feeling incredibly paranoid, and at the same time worried.

After going past the overpass, she could feel herself being followed.

From the edge of her eyes when looking back, she could see something silver-colored. But as she turned around, it was gone. This continued for as long as she walked past the crowd. She was reminded of Marisa's story, where a silver haired girl brandished a knife without a shred of emotion. Past the wall of people would be a big intersection where she could easily catch a cab.

She walked past everyone, uncaring if she bumped into them or politely slipping past them.

Her thoughts were affixed to the silver-color that continuously caught up to her vision. Before she was right by the sidewalk, a hand grabbed her from her left. It was from a burly man with concern in his eyes. "Are you okay? You seem to be in a hurry, bumping people left and right."

"I know this will sound ridiculous," Aya gulped. "But I'm being followed right now. Help me."

The man stared at her for a while. He was extremely weirded out, since he barely knew her. But he nodded, and quickly hold her hand through the sea of crowds until they were before the sidewalk. Conveniently, a cab was waiting for them. A driver leaned from the window to greet them, a woman of Asian descent.

"Where to, lovebirds?"

"I don't know her, she's being followed. Take her somewhere safe."

"What?"

"Quickly, to Tenma Publishing!" Aya went inside the backseat and quickly informed the driver. "I'll lead the way, just go pedal to the metal!"

"Aye, aye, Madame!" With a big grin on her face, the girl adjusted her cap, fixed the rear-view mirror, and changed the gear into one. She was riding in the standard manual sedan cab, and looking at the condition the insides were in she knew the driver took really great care to maintain this machine. "Hold on tight, because we're going for a ride!"

And with that, the two violated at least a dozen traffic laws as they blazed with incredible speed.

* * *

22:08

* * *

How long had she been on this taxi cab? She knew it would take her a while to lay out a good route back to her office, considering how at night the topologies were indistinguishable. With all the buildings' light turned off, they all felt like trees made out of concrete. The moon was full tonight, so that alleviated her vision somewhat. "Find the shortest route to Tokyo. I don't care how expensive it is I'll pay."

"Okay, okay, no need to scream at me I heard you the first time."

"Sorry," Aya sighed in relieve, her back fully reclining on her seat. "It's just that, I'm really on edge right now." She needed something to distract herself with, something simple. Maybe conversation. She's pretty good at that. "I haven't caught your name yet, um, Miss... Kurenai Misuzu? Did I pronounce that right?"

"Close," the driver's defeated grin was visible from the rear-view mirror. "I'm not Japanese, so people often call me that here." As she swerved right like a drifter, she picked up the gear into five and stabilized the wheels. "The name's Hong Meiling. Chinese-born immigrant. Nice to meet you, Miss... uhm, sorry to ask but what was your name again?"

"Aya Shameimaru."

"Oh, you're a reporter, right?"

Aya raised her brow. "How'd you know that?"

"I knew it!" Meiling smiled happily. "You're the reporter that predicted the bubble economy crash back in 1994, right? You made a friend I know really wealthy and happy with your predictions!" Meiling operated her taximeter into stopping at a fixed amount. "Usually going back to Tokyo by car will cost you five hundred thousand yens, but for you I'll give an 80 percent discount." Aya looked at the meter and found herself with a hundred thousand in exact number. "How's that? A friend of my employer is a friend of mine too."

Hearing her praise, she felt herself slowly enveloping in happiness too. To think that someone would remember and appreciate her work, she felt really proud of herself. "Thanks. That makes me really happy, you know?"

"How about you meet her sometime soon? I'm sure she'll like you."

"Maybe after this whole shebang is done."

"Will do," Meiling grinned. "By the way, is it alright if we pick up my employer's daughter before we go to Tokyo? Supposedly she's also here in Chiryu, what was she doing again? Transferring to a new school this spring?"

So her employer has a kid, huh? Thought Aya. "Sure, I don't mind." She was probably home-free anyway. What's a little detour or two going to do? "Did she say what school she'll be attending here? Is it municipal or private?"

"Apparently it's going to be a private school. Young miss said it's called Hearn Public High School."

"Oh, a high-schooler? Time sure flies, huh?" She never thought of hearing that word again. "I graduated a long time ago. But it feels like it's just yesterday."

"Is that right?" Meiling laughed. "Seems like everyone have a fond memory of being a high-schooler."

"It's a delicate part of my life, you see," Aya grinned. "Do you know where she's waiting at? It's pretty late already."

"It's fine. She usually frequented a convenience store in Fujioka. I don't mean to brag, but I used to take her there when she was still a little kid. She said she'd be there tonight, and I can't possibly pass on her invitation." The way Meiling told her about this daughter of her friend felt like an older sister talking about her younger sister. "She trusts me a lot, you know."

Aya smiled. "I have someone I consider a little sister too, as a matter of fact. I think I know how you felt."

"It's that feeling where you can't leave her alone, right?"

"Yep," Aya happily pointed out. "Exactly like that!"

And so in the blanket of night, two girls drove to Fujioka. The journey there took them an hour and a half, surely by the time they meet this daughter it would be close to midnight. Passing through Toyota, they saw how the streets were filled with light and excitement. Maybe she should visit this place and make an article about it? Surely when she had the chance.

Aya looked at her wristwatch, it was now a little bit before midnight. This was probably the longest day in her life. Being given the go for making her next biggest scoop, making friends with an ace detective and the Yakuzas, and finally picking up a lonely daughter in the middle of Japan she hardly took notice. Tomorrow will be a good day, she could feel it.

"Ah, there's the convenience store."

The roofing was blue and square-shaped. She knew this brand-chain really well. It's located on the middle of an incline by the road's left. On the road's right were downslopes that lead to a village down below. She saw a lot of convenience store like that in Tokyo. But that's beside the point. Now where was this girl Meiling so readily spoke to her? Outside the store, she didn't see anyone that could pass as a teenager, maybe she's inside the store?

"Look, there she is," Mailing said. Her hand was pointing at the figure that walked out of the convenience store. She was wearing a European-themed dress. With short skirts and definitely influenced by the Gothic Lolita movements. She wondered how one could be walking the streets with a dress bearing so many frills in it without feeling at least bothered by the stares she got, but she figured she was already used to them. Indeed, it was a cute dress, especially with its long sleeves and black stockings and gray leather boots that covered her feet.

But what made her fell silent was the color of the girl's hair.

It was pale white, silver-like with the glow from the moonlight. She looked at Meiling, who looked at her with obliviousness written all over her face. Maybe all of it was just a coincidence. Maybe she's just thinking a bit paranoid.

"Oiii, Sakuya-san!" Meiling yelled to gain the girl's attention. Sakuya was holding a full bag of food, since Meiling can smell it from a miles away. "Yo, Aya-san. Do you perhaps like pork buns? Sakuya's buying a lot of them it seems. Hm? You're looking mighty pale there. Are you carsick? Do you want to puke?"

"N-No. I'm just peachy here." Aya nervously laughed.

"If you say so."

The girl named Sakuya walked toward the car in elegant stride. The way her hip sways, and how each steps were weighed perfectly while taking her balance into account. In no time she had reached the rear left-side door. Aya waited on the right side of the rear, confirming if she was indeed the same silver that chased her around before.

When she opened the door, all Aya could see was her stern yet emotionless face. Her eyes deeply stared into the reporter's, and she instinctively sensed danger in the air. It was like a loud siren blaring inside her head, shouting at her to run away as fast as she could. There were hesitations, sure, but her self-preserving nature forced her to escape.

Opening the cab door from the right, she ran to the other side of the road. As she was about to dive down the hillside, aiming toward safety in the village down below, her back were struck with something light, but sharp. Going through her nerves, the raven-haired girl felt two blazing sensation from her back, both close to the left and the right of her spine. Aya couldn't move, even if she tried. It felt like her entire body was going numb.

In the distance she saw the full moon, and close by she can feel the silver-hair's presence. Her throat was parched, she need something to drink this pain in her throat away. She could try screaming, but the words she wanted to shout became a jumbled mess in her mind. Finally, she decided to shout. Something, anything, short or long it doesn't matter.

Shout, with all the life she had.

"**ANYONE PLEASE, HELP M—"**

"A valiant effort surviving this far," a voice so sophisticated and delicate, something that no matter who would enjoy hearing it no matter the time of day. "But sadly, it seems that your fate rests in my hands, Ms. Reporter." Aya felt the silver-hair's knuckle against her cheek. And her eyes spotted a wet cloth on her other hand. "I do not expect your forgiveness, but I hope you understand that my hands are tied."

After placing the cloth on her nose, she felt the tingling numbness rushing through her body. The moon was so pretty tonight. A shame that she wasn't allowed to see it for much longer.

The asphalt was cold.

Too cold for someone who knew of warmth.

* * *

_"In March 24th, 1998. Late at night. A crime occurred in-front of a convenience store in Fujioka. A few witness have given their accounts on this heinous crime, but no records of a crime taking place there were ever found. To this day, it still remained as one of the unsolvable mystery of Modern Japan. Until now, that is."_

_-Kakashi Mini-Segment, Tenma Publishing Newspaper released in April 2nd, 1998. First print edition.  
_


	6. Red Cross (IV)

1997

* * *

More than one million weapon had existed since the time of yore. Some deadlier than the others. Some more unique than the others. Some more mystical than the others. Some valued more than the others. And some more cursed than the others.

In the field of swordsmanship, there were as many swords as there were styles. The styles that prioritized the movements of the sword. The styles that prioritized the beauty of the sword. The styles that prioritized the power of the swords. And the styles that prioritized the annihilation of the sword.

In this world there exists swords that were bestowed with curses. All of them were man-made, and created over a long period of time. The earliest record of a cursed sword transcended known history, in which creation itself was conceptualized by a single swing from one such weapon and was destroyed as easily as it was born.

The distinction between the accursed and the blessed were divided by a single, ice-thin line. What was thought as holy to one side would be regarded as damned by the other. Like a single coin with different carvings on each side, and yet completely the same when viewed side by side. The toxicity of power was indeed a burden too great for mortals, and only mortals could sever the chains of anguish that bound them to their fate.

Walking inside the underground ring beneath Shibuya, Youmu Konpaku was feeling fearless tonight.

It was a caged match, born out of the greed of profits. Looking around, the white-haired girl found herself sickened by the cheering created from uninvolved bloodlusts. Truth to be told, she despised the grandeur of gambling, but if there were any other ways to easily face this combatant she too would like to know.

The craziness inside the ring was deafening. At last a challenger came to defeat the undefeated of the underground world. It seemed like the spectators fancied a bloodbath, what with the colosseum fully-packed and seemingly double-booked. Youmu felt like shedding a single tear for them, for they were unknowingly inflicted with a great curse. But her sympathies were reserved to the champion currently walking inside his iron coffin.

The girl cared not his name, but his sword's name. Basking in the gleaming light, it was an instrument of murder. How many times had this ring unknowingly turned into a hill of corpse? The ring was cleaned too often, too hard for her to estimate the exact number. But if she were to guess, the corpses numbered a hundred at minimum.

"So this time I got to skewer a little girl, huh?" From across the ring gloated a man etched with mountains of tattoos, all of them tribal-like and depicting skulls, checked the young girl's body with a sinister grin. "The boss said I can do whatever I want if I was to defeat you. Is that a part of your bargain, little miss? Or is that just an excuse to spend your night with me?"

Youmu was silent, not even batting an eye at him.

He was a nameless vessel. His presence overwritten by his weapon's curse.

_Zankou Roueijin_. A name that sounded strong, and it was indeed strong. A sword forged from a rare ore, tempered in blue flame, and engraved inside it a soul of a lonesome wolf. The form was indeed of Japanese origin. The length was shorter than a meter and a half, and its thickness firmly planted itself in the thin category of three millimeters. The sword itself was in a good condition, clearly looked after by its wielder. Its history and experience visible through the naked eyes. But the sword was indeed twisted, agonizingly bent to a shape more sinister than it should.

The sword was crying. Youmu could hear its wailing from this distance. Opening her eyes, a resolve was born inside Youmu to give the sword her well-deserved and peaceful rest. So she drew the sword slung over her shoulder with her left hand, and her right hand readying her shorter sword by her waist. In her silence, the crowd began to cheer, hopefully seeing the humiliating demise of a proud sword practitioner.

"Hoy, hoy, hoy. No need to get so serious young lady," the vessel licked his thin and dying lips, as his hands made playful swings with _Zankou Roueijin_. It would seem that the vessel was ambidextrous, his perception honed into the fullest even when he's messing around. Youmu could feel with her senses that this would be quite the hard fight. "What's the matter, white hair? Don't have the heart in it to strike first?" The man assumed a stance as if he was trying to cut a horse's neck. Both hands diagonally raised behind his head, the front of the blade facing upwards. "Then allow me."

A distance of thirty steps were covered with a single dash, creating an explosive wind that blasted in Youmu's way. The weight of that single strike was close to the weight of a huge boulder. It was not an exaggeration on Youmu's part if she thought she was deflecting a small volcanic eruption.

By this point, that single attack would normally end the fight. But this was not an ordinary challenger's match. There were stakes placed in this battle, though unknown by everyone except Youmu herself. And that gave the female swordsman great leverages, as long as she calmed herself and act by the teachings of the sword.

So before she could feel the full brunt weight of his attack, the girl simply raised her sword with one hand, and skillfully redirect the point of impact. It was a graceful motion of redirection. Steel against steel and now steel against the floor. And so the wolf-like man looked up at the white-haired swordswoman standing tall, and cut horizontally across her stomach. But a telegraphed attack like that couldn't possibly hit her nimble body, as she bent her body backwards and with the help of one hand flipped herself back to her feet.

"Impressive," said the vessel. "You managed to deflect my surprise attack, and even managed to dodge my flash cut."

"You should give up," Youmu said. "With your skills you are only going to make your sword sad."

As if he had just heard the funniest line in comedic history, the vessel laughed maniacally. He pointed at the sword he held in his right, before poking at its blade playfully. "You think this blade has feelings in it? That it can laugh, cry, and be mad? I started this fight assuming I'm fighting against a warrior, not a grade fucking schooler!"

His tone had changed. In his voice was now anger alongside his insanity. The man's laugh was not the least bit amusing, as those noises sounded like the snorting of hyenas.

"Your soul has been tainted by the blade's curse," Youmu warned. "This is your last chance."

And with that the man pointed his sword at her. "Shut up," and quickly assumed his battle-ready posture. "Tonight you will taste the sharpness of my blade, bitch." Not a single grace left in his manner, the man continuously boast. "And after your limp body drowned in your own pool of blood, I will have my way with your wounds."

"You are beyond saving."

"And what's wrong with that?"

The vessel started with a slash from above, directed at Youmu's right eye. She quickly sheathed her blade and did a pivot with her left foot. With _Zankou_ hitting the floor, Youmu thrusted back the sword and crushed the vessel's stomach with its scabbard. The impact was loud, and the damage was severe. With the image of the vessel now on the ground, however, Youmu couldn't exactly take it easy.

If anything, the real fight will start from now.

While on his knees, the vessel launched sharp arcs of winds that flew toward her. They were made from consecutive slashes that lingered in the air, which Youmu fondly called scars. The scars flying toward her were shaped like triangle, and Youmu didn't need to counter them if she could just jump inside it.

As she landed on the ground, she was met with the vessel trying his best to dismember her legs. But that attack wouldn't work if she held herself mid-air by grabbing the vessel's shoulders. Like a make-shift table, she held her hands on top of the man's shoulders with her feet lifted back like a mermaid's tailfin. And when the vessel sliced upwards, Youmu already leap-frogged above his head.

"Quit dodging and fight me, coward!"

There were hatred and frustrations mixed in the vessel's voice now, and Youmu was done analyzing her opponent. It was a complicated affair, however, for she was actively trying her best not to hurt the cursed sword. The angles in which the vessel unleashed his strikes were becoming increasingly horrible, and if her blade was to meet his in such a way it would result in _Zankou Roueijin_'s destruction.

"I've been fighting in this arena for ten years! Undefeated! I am the king of this underground civilization." His roars fell into deaf ears, as Youmu easily dodged his slashes with her trained footwork. "Day in and day out I trained, and trained, until my joints ached and my blood were mixed into my sweat. No way in hell I will be defeated by some bitch from who knows where!"

By now the two had already rounded two laps inside and on the edge-sides of the iron cage. Slowly but surely, the vessel made it his scheme to trap Youmu in the middle of the ring. She found herself unable to resist the urge to accept the challenge, and bit his bait. Now in the middle of the ring, she held her shorter sword. The unsheathed blade in her right and its sheath in her left.

"Now that you're in the center, I can show you my ultimate attack!"

Youmu's respond to that was to raise her left hand, and had her fingers invite the vessel's strongest attack. With the biggest of grins of course.

"Let's see your smile after you're destroyed by this attack!" The vessel moved around the ring, disappearing out of the spectator's eyes. It might look like a cheap parlor trick, but in reality it was actually a sequence of movement so fast they were untraceable to the untrained eyes. "And that's not all. As you can see from my attacks before, the nightmare of _Zankou Roueijin_ is only in its beginning!" As soon as the man completely disappear from moving at the speed closer to sound, hundreds of scars appeared in mid-air and was launched toward the Konpaku Swordswoman. From every possible angle, in a three hundred and sixty degree, winds as sharp as blades were flying toward her.

"Let's see you come out unscathed from these attacks! This tornado of wind-slashers have a name: Array of Shadows! Because not even your shadow can survive my ravaging attacks! Gyahahahaha!" The vessel laughed and laughed as he unleashed more winds aimed at Youmu. All of them aiming at the possibly blind-spots in the girl's perceptions. "Die, Konpaku!"

The attack only let up after twenty minutes of consecutive attacks, and what was left of Youmu was her whole body completely unscathed. To the gaping mouth of the vessel and the incomplete silence due to stunned reactions from the audience, Youmu stretched both her arms and wiggled her hips. "That was a good attack, but it has a lot of flaws.

"For example, _Zankou Roueijin_ does make it easier for you to put the weight in each of your strikes toward your opponent like a scar made out of wind. But the thing is," Youmu crossed her arms together and thought about the vessel's attack quite loudly. "Your sword doesn't excel in being consecutively used to make those wind projectiles. After, maybe twenty slashes, the weight of your arm and the angles in which you slash with _Zankou_ was greatly becoming misaligned. Honestly I'm not sure how you're able to win fights with _that_ as your best and strongest attack." Youmu then said with a bright smile: "But that was some good technique. With a few more optimizations, I'm sure it could be developed into a more killer of a technique."

And after that she parried another strike. She used the back of her sword that was hanging around in her right hand, before kicking the vessel back a few steps. The man was now out of breath, but he still managed to stand on his two legs.

Such a sad state for a man with talent.

Youmu too was not entirely free to do as she pleased. She was pressed for time, preferring to end the battle as early as she could, and she was quickly running out of time. With a single breath, she raised the longsword in her scabbard up against the cursed blade. And in a delicate motion, slid the side of the blade into the ground while simultaneously launching the sword into the air. In the time it took for the cursed blade to reach the floor, it took Youmu the same amount of time to take a good stance.

"No. Stop, I beg of you!" The man pleaded. "Let me win! Let me remain a champion! Let me live my life in decadence!"

Her left arm pulled back, she stood with her best leg forward. Her eyes were aiming at the opponent's solar plexus, and with each movements the joints inside her body was becoming more and more relaxed and flexible. Accounting the trajectory of the falling blade, blanketed with its scabbard, she raised her right arm before her eyes. It was a measure to predict the exact time to strike, with the timing of the attack strictly when the blade lined itself perfectly in the middle of her arm.

"God Damnit!" With nothing else in his repertoire, he thrust the cursed blade forward. With pinpoint accuracy, the vessel known as Kurogane Tojo aimed at Youmu's throat. "Damn you Konpaku! I will not be beaten by you!"

In a single thrust of her fist, a great amount of energy was released. The transition of weight from the tip of her left feet to the ends of her knuckles was staggering. Like a laser colored in white, her fist transferred its destructive properties through the tip of the sword's handle to the end of the blade's scabbard without a single wasted movements. It resulted in something hard piercing through the body of _Zankou Roueijin_'s vessel, and breaking through the iron cage behind him. At that point, the cheering inside the arena stopped, and slowly turned into booing.

This was why Youmu despised betting fights.

Exhaling a loud sigh, she watched as the vessel slowly and lifelessly dropped face first into the ground. She made sure that the cursed blade wasn't further harmed, and slung it back to its rightful sheathe, before placing it on an empty sword-holster by her waist. From the start it was intended for her to claim the cursed blade as her prize, but with the cage now slowly being filled with henchmen she was sure her time to cleanse the blade would draw near.

Hopefully they were just here to take the drained man out of the arena and give her the red carpet outside.

Of course it would never went as she planned.

From behind the muscular henchmen in black tux, one man clapped his way in. "Very good Ms. Konpaku. Very good. Tell me, how does it feel to defeat the champion so easily? Do you feel proud? Do you feel disappointed? Or do you feel yourself thirsty for more?"

The man with the rotund figure and a mustache you could twirl playfully was known as the Underdon of Shibuya. One of the leaders of the mafia group Sevens which bore the color of Orange: Mandarin Long. In the hierarchy, his family was ranked second, below the Japanese Fujiwaras and above the Thailand Cassia. His jurisdictions covered the underground playhouses located all over Japan, but his favorite attraction remained to be this very underground arena.

"May I go home now?" Youmu made sure to cut to the chase. "I have a strict curfew, you know?"

Mandarin couldn't help but laugh. "A Konpaku with a curfew? Now that's a good humor." The don raised his burly hands and his henchman became ready, though Youmu was just sick of playing the fool in this staged show. "But alas, the audience wouldn't be happy if you just walked out without spilling a single blood you know? So I gathered my henchmen and planned this double feature just for you. Aren't you feeling honored right now?"

"I feel the same way even now. From the time I stepped my foot inside this cage of iron, all I felt is disgust." Youmu readied herself by unsheathing both her longsword and her shorter sword. The swordswoman readied herself in a relaxed stance as she thought of herself like the fig tree. Sturdy, tall, and hardened. "All of you may come at me at the same time. You can even use those dinky firearms you have inside your vests. Don't hold yourself back, okay?" And as if on cue, they pulled out their guns. "Good. Good. Very good. Full marks for all of you in efforts. This would be a good exercise for me too."

With the guns firing as her signal, Youmu swiftly rushed through the blazing leads.

* * *

April 3rd, 1998

* * *

The rustling wind outside slowly woke her up.

She wasn't that much of late sleeper, but Youmu would always woke up five minutes before her alarm rung no matter how late she went to sleep. On her bed, she would always start her day by sitting up and stretched her back to greet the morning. When she looked at the clock, it would be five in the morning in five minutes. So Youmu slid to the edge of her bed and slipped her feet in her slippers. A few minutes of calisthenics later, she pressed the alarm just as she finished her morning warm-ups.

Dressing up in her usual sportswear, she walked into the early morning breeze outside with a short running pants and a windbreaker. Her running shoes tapped against the wooden walkway down the apartment's stairs and toward the entrance. She made sure not to wake the residents, and quietly exited the apartment. She had learned from her first day here that one the tenants dislike being woken up early, something about her job not letting her get enough sleep in her schedule. But if she were careful, she could slip past their ears just fine.

As she stood before the entrance of her apartment, an entire front-yard greeted her. "Today is going to be a good day," said the white-haired girl. Today marked the first semester of her second year as a High Schooler. It felt like her first year life was just starting yesterday, and now she's suddenly a second year student. "It's already the third of April, but the air's still cold. I can't ever get used to this."

Some say that a long journey started with a single step. For her, that single step marked the start of her morning workout. She was motivated to keep her body fit, and jogging along the riverbank would keep her healthiness in check. As the sun slowly rise, so did her spirit. Her goal was to run as far as the large red bridge before coming back to her first step.

She wanted to do this basic routine for ten laps, and she did so with the utmost dedication. The first eight laps were easily done, but her ninth and tenth time weren't done as gracefully. She was swaying with each step, and her strides were severely slowing down. She felt extreme pain coming from her knee, and coming to terms with her own limitations.

On her tenth lap, she struggled to stabilize her breathing. But she kept on going, breaking past the limit of her yesterday self. Now safely inside her apartment's front-yard, she fell on her back and laid on the ground while looking at the sky. She was out of breath, her whole body covered in sweat, but her mind received the greatest satisfaction.

The sky was cloudless, quickly dissipating its early-glow to the Rayleigh. Her body became still for a moment, eyes widening and staring at the blue above. Her eyes closed, she quickly sat on the ground, taking off her windbreaker and slinging it around her neck. After tying the sleeves together, she stood up. Eyes wide open, she looked around the front-yard before noticing what she was searching for: A broom.

Thirty minutes of sweeping later, she looked over her work and was pleased with herself. The green of the grasses were without any other color, except a mountain of leaves on each side of the yard. The road made out of pavements leading to the porch was swept clean. In her eyes, it was as if her work of art and discipline today was shining brightly.

"Youmu, good morning," said a voice in-between yawns and groggily-made lips-smacking. "I see that you're very hard at work again today. Are you sure you won't be late to your first day of school?" The owner of the voice was a female in her early thirties, though her looks belonged to a youthful girl in her late twenties. "I heard it's going to be a half-day for you today. Make sure you come back home before dark, okay?"

"Thank you, Miss Yuyuko." Youmu was fidgeting. "And about yesterday—"

"It's fine."

"But—"

"Come now, Youmu," Yuyuko grabbed Youmu by her shoulder, assuring her that it's okay. "Don't beat yourself up over this. Sometimes it's just unavoidable. If there are no risks then there are no rewards. Chin up, straighten up, and face tomorrow—which is today—proudly. Alright?"

The white-haired girl was unsure. How to reply Yuyuko's kindness, how to make it up to her, and how to process what to do next. "Alright. I'll try my best," but she managed to answer with a bright smile. "I'll work hard today too."

"That's good, that's good." Yuyuko nodded. "And make sure to take a shower first, okay?"

* * *

Showering took her thirty-five minutes. Preparing her breakfast with a microwave took her twenty-five minutes. That leaves her an hour to commute to her high school.

The first thing she needed to do was making sure not to forget switching the covers for her longsword, Roukanken, and her shorter sword, Hakurouken. She placed them into a guitar case made out of metal. Inside the case were coverings that were custom-made to hold the two blades without making it clonk all over the case, and once they were set into the mold she would place a wrapping over them before placing a guitar inside. The last time was too conspicuous, what with holding sword cases despite not being a member of the kendo club.

After double checking and making sure that all was in their place, she exited her flat and locked the door. Maybe she should try riding the bus to school on her first day. She had time to spare, afterall.

* * *

1996

* * *

She hadn't the faintest idea that her journey would take her through the roaring sea. All of this just to reach a land in the middle of nowhere. At least it beats sitting in class learning something she couldn't learn straight from the textbooks.

The sea was raging, waves throwing the boat all over the place while winds from various edges of the world shook the steel and rocked the steel-made hull. From the control room, the captain pointed at a single island over in the distance. "That there is the Island of Ganryu. We've sent you here as your employer have promised, but there's no way we can land the boat in this kind of weather." The captain was old, maybe too old to roam the sea again. Even still, he kept his promise to safely send Youmu as much as he could near the Ganryu Island.

"That's all right," the white-haired girl said. She was wearing a thick raincoat over her usual outfit: Green vest over white short sleeve and green pants with a pair of black boots. "I can manage from here."

"What do you mean by—"as if cutting his sentence, Youmu walked out of the control room and began running as fast as she could. Her speed was as fast as the wind, as she ran toward the ship's bow as if her life depended on it. Before the captain could notice, the girl was now running on the bow's horn, before leaping into the island at least five meters away from the boat. The captain could only shook his head. "That crazy girl better not die in that accursed island."

For five years straight, there were strange typhoon-like existence surrounding Ganryu Islands. From the mainland or the nine states, it couldn't be felt. But once a ship or a plane were to pass through it, they would be hit with this anomaly. The job of a Konpaku was, aside from dealing with accursed weapons, resolving these special cases that popped up all over Japan. But it seemed this was a special kind of special case, for the cause of this incident was an Accursed Blade.

Her landing wasn't entirely pretty, as she wasn't accounting the dampness of the sand. Hurriedly, she pulled her legs out of the mud-like sand and walked toward grounds that were more stable and firm. Youmu looked around, searching for the source of this typhoon-like activity. She deduced that the culprit should be somewhere in the center of the island.

After fighting against the needle-like raindrops and the razor-like winds, she found herself before a path that led her underground. The updraft coming from inside the deep cave was stronger than she thought, as it forced her to draw her blades at them. Taking on a stance, Roukanken on her left hand and Hakurouken on her right hand, she steadily walked underground with the unrelenting gust slashed by Youmu's trusty blades.

What could possibly be inside the underground cave?

Youmu never thought that she would be coming face to face with a lonesome warrior looking over a bonfire. The warrior was holding in his hand and placing the blade against her shoulder a sword at least two meters long. Its shape was lean, with its blade sharpened and tended carefully. The man holding the sword was looking at the girl with gentle eyes, her other hand holding a towel invitingly. "Quite the typhoon, huh?" His voice was clear, unfitting for someone who was for five years inside a typhoon. "You must have a lot of question in your mind, huh? But that goes for me too. Where you from, little girl?"

"Sapporo," replied Youmu as she took the towel and placed it over her head. "Where are you from, Mr. Ganryu Matahachi?"

"Quite a coincidence. I'm from there too you see," the man laughed. "Is it really in our blood that we can make the best soups?"

"That's a stereotype," Youmu refuted. "But it is true. Way better than that fish soup you're cooking at least. Though I sympathize with your inability to make soup stocks."

"I'm trying to perfect this stock, you know?" The man laughed as his hand pointed at the boiling soup stock. "It's my dream to open a ramen store somewhere in the mainland, so I traveled all over Japan to perfect my cooking prowess." The man began sighing, as her head began shaking. "But alas I am trapped inside this pillar made out of winds, unable to return to the mainland."

"If you give that sword to me, you can be set free."

"Though I don't mind dueling right now, could you spare me a little while. This stock and warmed water are about to mature into a perfect soup." And from what appeared to be a rucksack, the man pulled out two empty bowls and tossed one of them to Youmu with minimal movements that she couldn't catch the moment it was thrown. She caught it with ease, of course, but her eyes widened with surprise for a moment. "Nice catch. Wouldn't expect anything else from a Konpaku."

"You know of my family?" Asked Youmu as she sat on one of the unattended chair beside the bonfire. The warrior explained how he had learned her name from an occult magazine, though him correctly assuming her identity was just a lucky guess. "Then this should be easier, for the both of us." Placing her bowl by the ground beside her feet, she began rubbing the towel against her hair and ears. "What you are holding now is the sword made in an attempt to imitate Sasaki Kojiro's sword. Its name is _Byaku Majin'ouken_. A blade that was forged with absolute dominance in the blacksmith's mind.

"Normally, the blade would be sealed inside a special box. But if what I guess was right, you were the one who broke the seal." Finished with drying her hair, she moved on to her shoulders. "What was your reason in destroying the seal in the first place? If you were to tell me the truth I won't be as severe in my judgement on you."

"I used it as a substitute," answered the honest cook. "I need it to spear the fishes, you see."

"You used that cursed blade as a substitute for spearing fishes?"

"Is it wrong?" Asked Ganryu. "As long as it worked I don't have anything to complain about?"

"Poor sword. No wonder it is throwing a big tantrum right now," Youmu sighed. "Look here, Mr. Ganryu. Did you know that you're unknowingly making this sword so mad that it worked up a big storm out of sheer anger and frustrations at you?"

Ganryu couldn't help but to shake his head and laughed out loud.

"Really now Mr. Ganryu. That sword you possess has its own soul and is very much alive, you know. Had the sword never try to communicate its thoughts with you before? Or were you just really inattentive to your surroundings?" She was justifiably angry. A swordsman, at least a really skilled one, should be able to hear the thoughts of their sword. "Apologize to _Byaku_."

"I'm very sorry, _Byaku_. I'll do better next time." With a bow, Ganryu apologized to his sword. This made Youmu approve of him, at least as a swordsman. Now both of them were smiling, and in the same second noticed that the soup was slowly bubbling. "It seems the soup's ready," said Ganryu as he gave Youmu a cleaned wooden ladle. "Ladies first."

"How courteous of you." Youmu's smile widened, as she began looking at Ganryu with a kinder and softer eyes. "Don't mind if I do then," before scooping up a large amount of soup and meat into her bowl. This netted her a protest in shock and awe from the cook himself. "The least you can do is make me eat as much as I want. I'm starving, you know?"

Ganryu sighed, honestly not knowing how to process the information before him.

* * *

Youmu wiped her drool. She woke up just in time to exit at her stop. Chiryu had a dedicated bus transit that she rarely used, because she would always be sleepy on the way to school. It was her instinct that saved her this time, but she didn't know if the same thing could happen again tomorrow or the day after that.

Making sure that she didn't forget any of her belongings; her guitar case and her school bag, she walked out of the bus and her mind slowly wandered into the clouds. Maybe she should eat ramen again today? She wondered if his ramen store would be open in half a day.

"Youmu, good morning!" As soon as the bus left, a familiar voice called from her right. In her sight was a girl with light-brown hair and a red windbreaker over her school uniform; a white long-sleeved vest and a plaid black skirt. "It's rare to see you riding the bus. Usually you'd walk from your flat. Are you taking care of your body right? You're not too tired, right?"

"You are as lively as ever aren't you, Ririka," and after greeting her back the both of them started walking toward their school. "I'm taking care of my body just fine. I did my morning workout to the motivation of a new spring coming, afterall. But where's Ran?"

"Ran's already walking up ahead. That girl's so disagreeable on walking together to school. Especially with me," Ririka huffed. "But, spring, huh? With this kind of weather it would be extremely lucky if we could see even the flowers blooming," Ririka sighed as she crossed her arms behind her back. "It's so weird how the weather's just becoming unbelievably moody these last few days. Not to mention with all these strange assault cases I don't think I can get into a cheerful mood for the next few months."

"We have band practice today, don't we? Try to keep your spirits up, okay?"

A few minutes later, they meet up with Ran. The blue-jacket girl waved at the two schoolgirls, prompting the two to wave back at her. "Weird weather today isn't it? The forecaster even said that it's going to snow later on."

"What? That mega sucks!" Ririka exclaimed loudly. "I should've put on a stocking today!"

"Do you want to borrow mine?" Ran offered to the panicking girl. "I brought a few spares for today. Not sure if the size would fit though."

"We're sisters," said Ririka proudly. Leaning straight with her chest puffed, she grabbed Ran by the shoulder. "Of course it'll fit just fine!"

"Uh huh," replied Ran, turning her sight to Youmu. "By the way, Youmu, have you seen the article from Tenma Publishing yesterday?"

"About the truth of the assaulting incidents, right?" Youmu recalled. "If I'm not wrong, the article's about how the reporter's alluding to something supernatural going on in Japan right now. It's just baseless conspiracy report. There are nothing remotely substantial about it at all." Though she said that, anxiety slowly crept all over Youmu's self. "But then again, I don't follow the news that much."

"But isn't it weird that the reporter, _the_ _seasoned reporter_ I might add, was declared missing after her article was published by the press?" Ran placed her hand on her chin, slowly forming her train of thoughts. "It was as if the reporter was kidnapped, and her entire article was altered to seem like it's gossip tabloid nonsense to the readers?" And from there her mind wandered somewhere else. "What if it's a call for help directed to us readers? Maybe there is a conspiracy going on right now!"

"I don't know, Ran," Youmu shook her head. "Something just doesn't add up."

"Yeah, I agree with Youmu," Ririka followed. "I'm pretty sure you're just thinking some crazy stuffs inside that small head of yours, Ran."

And to that the baby blue-haired girl scoffed. She was utterly displeased by her sister's accusation. "Well, Youmu. How about we race to the school gate and leave this dummy sister of mine behind?" She was enjoying the moment with a wide smile, and what can Youmu do but take her offer? "Last one to reach the gate gets to treat everyone with ramen. Sounds good?"

"Just what I had in mind," Youmu nodded. "You're on."

And so, leaving Ririka behind, the two competitive high school girls ran with all their might toward their school. Not wanting to be left behind, the windbreaker girl angrily followed behind them. Their first day at school had only just begun.

* * *

The wind was howling and raindrops were spraying all over the place, but the two swordsmen didn't care. After a good hot meal, any battlegrounds were closer to paradise than they were closer to hell. The sight of Ganryu as he held his laundry-pole was mesmerizing. His stance was graceful, with both his feet staying on top of the mud-like sand without sinking even a millimeter.

It was as if Ganryu was possessed by _Byaku_, but she couldn't help but feel that _Byaku_ was being wielded by Ganryu. The man clearly had trained his body for five years, not like there was anything to do but in this island in the first place.

The rain wouldn't let up and it was deafening, but Youmu could hear Ganryu's words quite well. "Here I go."

Splitting the mound of sand in two and flying in the shape of a rising bird's wing, Ganryu immediately ran toward Youmu on the path he created. Obstructed by the launched sands, Youmu drew the blade slung behind her with her left hand and readied herself for his imminent attack. Ganryu did himself a good job by concealing how he held his blade behind his back and running without getting caught out of breath in a distance that shouldn't be scoffed at.

Within an arm's length, Ganryu immediately stopped and stepped back. It was a feint that capitalized on Youmu's surprise, as she was thrown off guard and swung her sword vertically forward to parry his horizontal strike in anticipation. His plan worked, and it was time for the follow-up.

Ganryu took three steps down front, before pivoting in place and kicking Youmu in her stomach. After confirming that the white-haired girl was dazed, he changed the grip of his hands and sliced a crescent overhead straight into Youmu's head. It was a bold move, as if mimicking the motions of splitting a watermelon into two.

In retaliation, Youmu lowered herself and got into her knee. In a simple, but trained motion, she placed her right arm against the back of her blade. With a deep breath beforehand, she took the brunt force of Ganryu's head-splitter head-on. It was painful, but she had to bear with the pain her right arm felt. In a weather as stormy as this, Youmu had little advantage in dual-wielding.

"Not going to unsheathe your second blade, Konpaku?"

"You will regret mocking me, Mr. Ganryu," Youmu said with bated breath. Though there was a slight problem with her breathing, her movement hadn't dulled even for a bit. Quickly, she stretched her right arm toward Ganryu's hand and her legs made a sweeping motion that slid her out of Ganryu's blade. Now on Ganryu's side, she aimed the pointy end of Roukanken toward Ganryu's neck and pulled Ganryu straight to his demise.

It was a good strategy, one that Ganryu didn't anticipate. But it was a strategy made from impulse, therefore not very well-planned. In a single moment, Ganryu saw through it and planted _Byaku_ inside the sand mound. Using it as a polearm, he lifted himself into the air and stood on his hands on his sword.

Youmu stopped her stabbing attack, but when she was about to strike a slash aimed at Ganryu's arms he was already a step ahead of her. Using the weight on his lower body and the strength of his hands, he twisted _Byaku_ so that her front was looking toward Youmu. With the power of gravity, Ganryu's body fell, and as his body fell he pulled out the sword in a slashing arc toward his opponent. Youmu couldn't anticipate the attack too well, because she ran the risk of being launched into the air if she were to block it, so with her left hand in a weird angle she parried the incoming strike and redirected the blade's trajectory.

This, however, was done with great sacrifice in Youmu's part. A human's limb couldn't be forced to bend in such a way, and Youmu only succeed because of her discipline and learned techniques. Using her right hand to put the Roukanken into its scabbard, she then pulled out the sword that was resting by her waist. Her body was still moving, and with the agility of a wolf she ground Hakurouken's blade against _Byaku_'s.

Sparks were flying as she used her power to keep the laundry pole stuck on the sand via pressing its center of gravity. As if the blade was on rail, Youmu's shorter sword slowly made its way toward Ganryu's hands. He couldn't pull back the blade, and there was no other choice but to kick Youmu with his right feet.

Before his feet connected with her face, Youmu blocked the kick with her broken left hand. It wasn't a perfect block by any means necessary, but she was able to make the kick only graze the tip of her left ear. The disadvantage of having a blade of two meters in length was its inability to be used as effectively when the enemy stayed in close range. Ganryu's biggest mistake was focusing on offense instead of focusing on defense, but that was the byproduct of his shadow training alone in this storm-cage prison.

Just before the shorter blade was jammed in Ganryu's shoulder, he let go of _Byaku Majin'ouken_ and raised his hands above his head. That was the signal of his loss. Youmu was as quick to stop as Ganryu was to retire, but it was proving to be a learning experience for Youmu.

"I give up," Ganryu laughed. "No way can a guy like me defeat a Konpaku. Not even with an enchanted sword."

Soon after, the rainclouds parted way, as if they were carried away by the invisible palm of Buddha. Now in the clear sky where the big yellow king of the sky reside, a big rainbow appeared. It was less than a rainbow and more like a bridge that connected the east and the west. Some say that the rainbow was so big that it could be seen from as far as Vladivostok.

"Oh thank the Gods," Ganryu looked at the sky and breathed out a sigh of relief. "Now I can finally go back to the mainland." After that he looked at the swordswomen, whose left hand was not really in a good state to be dangling about unattended. "And you can go to a clinic to get that right arm fixed."

Youmu was on her knees and out of breath. Sliding he shorter sword to its sheath, the girl pulled out a flare gun from inside of her vest. Pointing it upwards, she fired the signal.

* * *

Youmu couldn't concentrate on the opening ceremony. All she did was sit and listen to the same-old speech of Hearn's principal. It was the exact same as last year, though mixed in were topics that were currently trending among the student bodies and societies alike. Maybe it was a lack of sleep on her part, but Youmu was feeling extremely sluggish as of late.

But, as if the God had sent His aid to her, an underclassmen right behind her seat tapped on her shoulder. She was small-statured, with her face quite close in looks to a squirrel. Her brown hazelnut hair was tied to a bun behind her, and she was looking extremely pale. "Excuse me, may I trouble you to take me to the infirmary?"

Youmu couldn't exactly refuse, though she was reserved about it. Quietly, she looked at a teacher she knew well. Bright and vibrant white hair, her looks being of a youthful woman in her mid-thirties, and overall a diligent-looking teacher with a fondness of glasses. The teacher noticed Youmu pointing at the girl behind her, who in the teacher's perspective was becoming paler by the seconds, and nodded. After a few whispering session with the vice-principal to her right, Youmu was approved of taking the girl to the nurse's office.

"Alright first year," Youmu whispered as she stood with her upper body staying crouched. "Come with me."

The first year readily complied with Youmu's orders.

The two of them slowly exited the gymnasium, with many eyes of the students glued into them, and they walked straight to the courtyard. Standing on an empty soccer field, the first-year wasn't sure how to respond to this sudden turn of events. The atmosphere slowly turned into an awkward silence, and Youmu was the first to slice it away.

"Enough with your disguise," Youmu ground her teeth as she pointed at the first-year. "You can drop the act. I've seen through that flimsy mask of yours."

"Um, I don't know what you mean—"before she could finish reasoning her upperclassmen, the first-year was sent flying into the goal-post. It was a simple palm strike technique that transferred the bodily weight to the tip of the user's palm. But as if she was struck with nothing, the first-year quickly stood up and brushed the dust off of her clothes. "Have some restraints, Konpaku. This body is borrowed, not mine."

"So who are you affiliated with?" It was a generic familiar that used possession to relay a message, but Youmu was secretly hoping it was a ninja in disguise carrying with him an accursed blade. "The House of Eternity, the Underground Mansion, or the House of Misdirection?"

"A warning from my boss so you better listen closely," warned the familiar as she cracked the neck of the first-year it possessed. "The watchdog of the Vampire has infiltrated this school. You'll know who the dog is soon enough." The familiar chuckled, "it seems that the bitch's already sniffing around, you see. Can you feel her presence?"

Closing her eyes, she could feel a sensation that she had never felt since a long time ago. Tranquil bloodlust. It was borderline nostalgic for her, a feeling that was long gone suddenly rushing back inside and invading her mind.

"I felt that," she opened her eyes, assured that it was not her wild imagination. "Can't pinpoint the location though," said the grinning girl. "She was smart enough to leave trails of it all over the place to obfuscate my senses. This dog of the vampire is definitely skilled and experienced."

"You're as much a battle junky as I've heard from my boss," the first-year body grimaced at the sight of an excited Youmu. "Well, anyway. That's all I had to say to you. Be sure to take care of this girl's body, okay? Once I'm not controlling her, she'll faint and stay fainting for... fifteen minutes. You won't mind missing the opening ceremony, right?"

"If anything I have to thank your boss."

"Great," the first year waved her hand, before her voice became faint. "See you later then."

As if on cue, the first-year fell to the ground. But anticipating it, Youmu caught the girl before she fell head first into the ground. She couldn't help but think how embarrassingly convoluted this familiar information-relay service was.

A trip to the infirmary later, she had it even with all parties involved.

* * *

1995

* * *

Amidst the fiery ruins all around her, Youmu Konpaku couldn't help but support herself by holding on to her blade. She was clearly outclassed and outplayed. Before her was a warrior whose aura shaped itself like a white dragon, exuding and forming from all over the warrior's body. Each strike the White Dragon dealt to Youmu was close in power to the violent waves of the raging sea. Each movements that the White Dragon took was as graceful as a Dance performed by Lakshmi. Each strike dealt to the White Dragon felt as if Youmu was cutting down a big mountain.

Her entire joints were creaking, burdened by her constant movements. Her temple was drenched with blood, flowing down helplessly from her crown. Sweat began mixing into her eyes, and through her eyes she was seeing demons before her. Her boiling blood told her to run away, as far as she could, for it was instinct that told her to preserve herself.

But before the might of the White Dragon, all she could do was barely maintaining her consciousness. She would be extremely lucky if she could just escape from this battle relatively unscathed, but she knew there was a price to pay for her foolishness. And it was her heart.

The White Dragon easily pierced through the center of Youmu's chest with his blade. Coming out from Youmu's back was a dismantled heart, beating weakly alongside the skin-razing wind. Her consciousness was fading, it was as if she was going somewhere far away.

* * *

"I said," angry, Keine Kamishirasawa threw a chalk at mach two directly to Youmu's forehead. It hit her square in the head and she yelped out a weird sound. "Youmu Konpaku. I expect the student I teach to be energetic first thing in the morning, considering we're having a transfer student of all things!" Still half awake, Youmu saw the half-pouting face of her favorite teacher, before slowly coming to realization. "This girl I'm about to introduce transferred at the end of the first year right after the term-end exams. Though her ancestry is not of Japanese origin, please give her hospitality befitting of our good and civilized learned behaviors passed down from our ancestors. Alright students?"

All the students, except Youmu, greeted back energetically.

"Youmu, Youmu," called Ran from a seat behind her. "It's bold of you to sleep in homeroom, considering Keine is supervising it." After a few silent laughs, Youmu couldn't help but feel embarrassed with herself. "But that aside, what do you think this transfer student will look like? We know it's a girl, but a foreigner to boot, huh?"

"It sounds like one of those late night cartoons I watched," Ririka excitedly shouted. "I hope it's a blonde american!"

"Be quiet over there," Keine warned Ririka, who immediately and happily apologized. Afterward, she turned toward the door, where the teacher's eyes met with eyes invisible to the student's line of sight. "You may come in now, Izayoi-san."

The figure that walked into the classroom was a mix of gallantry and chivalry. The girl's expression was stern, and inside her eyes were feelings of serenity. Her figure was lean, clearly she took a good care of her body. Her shoulders were small, but broad. Her arms were thin, but firm and strong-looking. Her legs were complimenting her hourglass body, and although it was covered by the uniform's skirt, Youmu could see a good amount of thigh gap through her mind's eye.

Youmu's heart began thumping.

It became louder with each seconds passing.

"My name is Sakuya Izayoi," said the white-haired girl in-front of the class. Her thin but perky lips briefly explained her name's etymology as her thin but supple fingers wrote her name on the whiteboard. "I am originally not from this country, but I am familiar enough with this country's customs and norms as well as its language to live here comfortably." And with that she bowed at her classmates. "I am sorry if in the future I may offend somebody, but please do take care of me."


End file.
